


First Contact

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 14:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11337771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A first time story between Mulder/Skinner





	First Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

First Contact by Spooky Bear

First Contact  
by Spooky Bear  


M/Sk  
Slash NC-17  
Sorry that this took so long, I started last October and then got wrapped up in the real world. Anyway - better late than never...  
****WARNING!! This story is slash with explicit sex scene between two men. If you are underage or offended by this sort of thing - GO AWAY!!! You have been warned.****  
**Another Warning - this is purely fantasy - and being such, uses no common sense such as safe sex. This fantasy world assumes that there are no such thing as STD's or other things common to unprotected sex between people. Don't try this at home without proper protection!**  
*Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Dana Scully, and the X-Files etc. are property of Chris Carter and 1013. They are being used without permission, but since I am not making any money off of this - don't sue me. This is fan fiction only!*  
OK to post to archives etc. - just keep all the disclaimers and such attached.  
Author's note: I have to apologize in advance for the use of alliteration. I don't always intend it to happen, but it sneaks out and happens anyway. Some of the rhyming was unintentional too. It's like a punnish version of Shakespeare possesses me and overtakes my fingers when I write. Also, there is a reference that is marked with the double asterisk (**) - it is not my original quote but one that came from the Dan Savage column in our local weird paper. If you don't know who Dan Savage is, he (I use the gender term loosely since his other incarnation is a drag queen) is a local advice columnist who is commonly referred to as "Hey, Faggot!" Check his column out at [Archivist's note: Website address given by author is no longer valid.] it is rather eye opening at times and guaranteed to be insulting at least 50% of the time.  
Summary - a first timer story between Mulder/Skinner. Spoilers include "Avatar" and other various episode prior to it.

* * *

First Contact  
by Spooky Bear

Journal Entry  
Walter S. Skinner

I've spent the better part of twenty years on autopilot. I don't know when exactly I stopped directing my life and my actions and became a pawn of a dark insidious game but it wasn't until I met him that I realized what had happened. Let me re-phrase that, it wasn't until I became involved with him that I realized the full extent of my slavery to outside forces. I had deluded myself into thinking that I was in control of my surroundings, but looking back, I can see that I never was.

The subtle manipulations began early on with jokes, a pat on the back and a friendly suggestion from a superior. Why don't you focus your strengths here? You'd look better in a darker suit. As a friend, I suggest you take the offer. Why don't you get a wife? The last suggestion seemed natural, after all, I was a single, eligible bachelor on his way to the top echelons of the Bureau. I had been a good little marine, and good little marines followed orders.

A wife, sir? Yes, sir. Right away, sir. I never questioned, never considered for a moment that I should question the request. I was eager to please, to serve my country. Even after Vietnam, I believed in the system, I believed the government. I hadn't become jaded like some of my fellow soldiers.

The request was simple enough to fulfill also. Through my superiors at the Bureau, I was introduced to several suitable candidates for the "perfect" wife. How little I was aware of back then that they were grooming me to become one of their pawns, one of the boys who did all the dirty work and took all the blame when something went wrong. I was so naïve. The candidates were pretty, sociable and just bright enough to not be dull or boring. They would have all fit in perfectly as Stepford Wives with their permanent smiles and their eagerness to please. I was dazzled by the image set before me of the perfect marriage. I chose one, how could I not?

Sharon. I convinced myself that I was in love with her. She was as wonderful as June Cleaver, the epitome of the classic wife. She cooked, sewed, cleaned and smiled her way into my life and because of her doting, I thought she loved me. It wasn't until much later that I found out she hated me all along, that I had "perpetuated the myth of her existence", or so she put it.

Had I known then what I do now, I would have saved us both the seventeen years of polite tolerance and heartache we suffered by refusing the suggestion of my superiors. But as they say, hindsight and all.

I worked hard for the Bureau, arriving early and staying late almost everyday. In performing my job with religious fervor I failed to notice how despondent Sharon was becoming. As with many men my age, we were raised with the false notions that women remained at home and had no desires to be something more than a housewife. Working for the Bureau didn't help enlighten me either since it was filled with older men set in their ways of what was proper and what was not. Hell, Hoover himself was still kicking around when I first joined the Bureau.

Sex with Sharon should have sent alarm bells off in my head. It was always obligatory on both parts. Even in the early days the fire was never there, only bland sparks once in a while. For the past ten years even the pretense of sparks was gone. I would usually wait until I couldn't stand it anymore to approach her. Met with bored indifference, sex lost all of its appeal except in my fantasy world.

Meanwhile, I had been too wrapped up in my job to notice anything was really amiss at home. I fetched like the good-trained dog I was becoming, eager to please my new masters. Rewarded with raises, responsibilities and unfolding secrets, they reeled me deeper into their lair.

It was almost fifteen years into my marriage before I started seeing the cracks in the facade of my superiors and as luck would have it, my life with Sharon started to crumble as well.

 The first time I had serious doubts about what I was being asked to do on a case involved him, Fox Mulder. This incident was the first time I had begun to doubt the motives of the Cigarette Man as well. I'd never liked the bastard but I did what I was told by my superiors, which was to obey him, but if obeying him meant breaking the law, I wasn't going to do it. And, if obeying him meant discrediting the work of one of my agents, someone I was responsible for, I was going to question it.

"Then why was my phone being tapped?" Fox had asked, accusing me of knowing. The question hit me hard. I hadn't authorized Mulder's phone tap and never would have. The smoking bastard refused to answer but the look in his eyes showed his cold arrogance. He had done it on purpose and expected me to turn a blind eye. No, sir. Not this time. Although what Fox had done was wrong, I understood his extreme measures in light if the illegal surveillance.

I did something that changed my life forever; I switched off the autopilot and took control again.

There are times I wish that I hadn't. Life would have been less stressful had I chosen to be a sheep and followed orders. Hell, I might have been promoted even further up the ladder and possibly have become one of the chosen few in the true seats of power, but I chose to think for myself and worse yet, to take action.

I didn't fire Mulder. I actually started helping him as covertly as I could. Did I know even then of my feelings? Did he? I can't say, but those early events began to unfold something much deeper, much darker that eventually led to where we are today. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to help someone like Fox? He begs for understanding and at the same time, pushes every offer of help away with childlike pride. More than once I have felt for Scully, putting up with his tantrums and craziness. He can be so frustrating in his lack of cooperation. The man literally chooses the most difficult and dangerous way of doing things. Its as if he thinks that doing things by the rules or in any semblance of order is boring and not enough of a challenge. The bitch of the matter is, he usually succeeds in his goals. This serves to piss off his peers and superiors, myself included, even more.

He believes that he is immortal, an idea that most men outgrow after they hit their early thirties, not so with Fox. He has no sense of consideration for other's feelings about his well being. He routinely shows this by recklessly endangering his life without thought to how those around him may feel. Personally, I have sat up many nights wondering if the brat was dead or alive, walking the halls of my apartment imagining the worst.

But with his entire disregard for personal safety, he is almost motherish about the well being of those around him. He dotes on Scully every time she gets so much as a sniffle. Her recent bout with cancer almost broke him. It wasn't easy on any of us, but Fox took it harder blaming himself for her misfortune.

Again though, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I set out to help him when and where I could. It was obvious that he cared deeply for Scully when he came to me begging for help after Duane Barry had taken her. Even at that time, I knew that I was being watched. Be it for good, bad or indifference, when you get to the level of responsibility that I had with the Bureau, you are being watched carefully. I couldn't help him outright even though I wanted to.

I know he hated me for it at the time. There have been several times that he thought I was with the enemy, that was one of them. It wasn't until after the elaborate set-up to get him the Smoking man's address that he put the pieces together and realized who it was that had helped him out. The dawning realization in his eyes when he confronted me with the truth tripped something inside of me. His look was a mix of gratitude and something that bordered on adoration. It was so apparent at that moment that he craved people who cared like a junkie craves heroin. Despite my problems at home, or maybe because of them, he owned a piece of me from that moment on and my own obsession began.

I wonder now if it was my obsession with him that opened my eyes to all the crap that surrounded me: the conspiracies, the lies and the cover-ups. Or, did my obsession just bring me over the edge of reason, shoving me into his delusions so that I began to believe them myself. I opt for the former.

Sharon and I grew further apart. I suppose that she was right in many things. I had been ignoring her, but looking back, I never really loved her. If only we had both been secure enough with ourselves we could have split sooner but we weren't. Life got pretty ugly between us near the end. I found myself staying at work later and later; any excuse not to have to go home. When I was at home, I found myself fantasizing about Fox, which scared the crap out of me.

It wasn't that I was fantasizing about another man but that the object of my desires was Fox. Just thinking about an agent who worked for me was bad enough but wanting Fox Mulder was like asking for trouble, big trouble. I might as well just have set myself up as a target. Anyone close to Mulder either got killed or discredited. He is as close to an addictive poison as one man can be. 

I seriously thought that something was wrong with me there for a while in that I was contemplating a relationship with someone that would bring about professional suicide. When a man longs for death, he is considered ill; when a man wants what is bad for him and pursues what can potentially harm him, he is considered very ill.

So why, when the dust settled from Sharon's wake and I finally found myself with him in my arms, did it all feel so damned right?

I had wanted it so badly and contrived for it to happen, whether I did this consciously or unconsciously, I still don't know. But it did happen and afterwards, I did the classic freak out. Be careful what you ask for, you just might get it.

I got it all right. It was better than I had imagined and it made me feel twenty years younger. 

***

Friday evening  
Mulder's Apartment

Bored shitless. There was no other way to describe it. B.O.R.E.D....Bored with a capital B. Nothing to do; Scully out of town; nothing decent on TV, which in and of itself was a crime, but to happen when he was bored, a catastrophe.

He padded around the apartment desperately searching for something to entertain himself with. The unread books looked pathetic, he had no new music to listen to and even the thought of popping in one of his favorite porn flicks didn't hold much appeal. His usual routine just wasn't working. What was it that Scully had said to him before she left? Get a life, Mulder. Get a life. Ha!

Resignedly, he popped his favorite videotape in the machine and pushed the play button. The familiar sounds of heavy breathing, moans and cue-card spoken lines filled the room instantly. Images of flesh on flesh, tongues, cocks and cum shots flashed before him, placing him in a tranced state. His usual Friday night entertainment though lately it wasn't doing much for him. He had wondered how long it was gong to take before the porn films effect had totally worn off and left him unfulfilled. He had relied on them for almost fifteen years.

He tugged at his cock, trying to coax it into an alert state, hoping for the ecstatic state that allowed him to forget the rest of the crap he was surrounded with daily. After trying for more than a half an hour and getting nothing more than irritated skin and a sore wrist, he admitted defeat and stopped. Ejecting the tape in disgust, he leaned against the wall.

The coolness of the plaster helped to clear his head a little. He wondered when he had become so dissatisfied with his usual routine. If he dug really deep, he knew what he needed. Flesh and blood. Fantasy lovers weren't doing it anymore.

He laid back down on the couch and stared at the ceiling reviewing all of the people he was interested in sexually, trying to come up with a suitable person as a partner that he could approach.

The first person that popped into his head was Scully. He shook that thought out of head immediately. First, there was no way that he was going to screw his partner, no matter how beautiful she was. Second, she was more like a sister. Third, he had had so many chances in the past that it would feel really weird to approach her now. He then thought of Marita. Too distant and too untrustworthy. Shiela in accounting? Engaged and too clingy. Marie in the apartment down the hall? Too pushy. Molly the waitress as his favorite restaurant? There was just a few too many wires loose upstairs in her brain.

He closed his eyes. He had to find some relief soon or he was going to explode. Within minutes, he was dozing, drifting in the state between sleep and wake where the subconscious takes over and allows you to explore the desires our parental controls usually inhibit. 

In his dreamlike journey he imagined hands on his chest, rubbing over his nipples and belly. He liked to imagine himself as the passive, receptive partner. Too many times in his brief relationships he had been the one to take the active role, something he despised having to do all of the time. Maybe that was why most women bored him to tears. Phoebe had been one of the only ones not to bore him, but her price was more than he had been willing to pay. He had tried to explain this to Scully one afternoon while they had been in the field, but she didn't seem to understand. To her, relationships were easy. Most of her relationships had been fulfilling and had ended on a friendly note.

He sat up abruptly. God! he needed relief and he needed it now! Maybe a new video was all that he required. He grabbed his zippered sweatshirt and prepared to jog down to the video store.

Arriving back home a record setting ten minutes later, he threw off his sweatshirt and shoes, inserted the new videotape and relaxed back into the couch. The anticipation of a new scene was enough to get his cock stirring a little.

He fast forwarded the tape to get past all of the beginning credits and the poorly done semi-plots that plagued porno flicks. Getting past the introduction stage and into the body slapping stage was what he needed. Something raw and unusual. He didn't even know who was starring in this particular flick. Ralph, the clerk at the video store had just handed him the tape when he had asked for something "totally different". For all he knew, it could be a heavy-duty SM tape. Right now, it really didn't matter.

When he figured that he had fast-forwarded enough, he hit the play button and closed his eyes. Immediately the sound of passion, faked or otherwise, filled the room. A mans groans and grunts were clearly heard over the sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

Mulder reached his hand into his sweats and freed his cock from its bindings. Where it had been uncooperative earlier, it was firm and ready to go now. 

He opened his eyes to view the action on the screen. At the sight, his hand stopped moving.

The screen showed a man ass fucking another man! The video store clerk had given him a gay porn! Mulder's brain told him that he should be freaked out about it but his cock had other plans. it grew even harder and stretched upwards to seek the attention that had been taken away.

Without realizing it, his hand started the stroking motion again while his eyes remained glued to the television screen. What he saw didn't disgust him like he always thought that it would. He had been involved with other guys before but his involvement had always been strictly blowjobs and his experience was limited. Three blowjobs does not an expert make.

The camera view moved out and showed that the man getting fucked was also giving a blowjob to a third man. For reasons he could not explain, this excited Mulder even more. To be filled at both ends was a desire that he had never voiced even in his inner thoughts.

He continued to watch the video, imagining that it was him getting fucked by the powerfully built man. What would it be like? He had to admit that he knew very little about the subject of being fucked. His only experience with anything in his ass was a doctor's fingers and a very small butt plug that Phoebe had used on him once or twice. He still had it.

With sudden determination, he hit the pause button, jumped off the couch and began the search for the plug. He had meant to throw it away years ago but never got around to it. Was that a subconscious decision? He didn't know, and at this point in time, he didn't care.

He rummaged through his dresser drawer with his left hand while still stroking his cock with his right. It didn't need too much encouragement to stay hard though, the anticipation of something different kept his nerves tingling. He found the plug, hastily rinsed it off and hurried back to the couch.

Restarting the video and settling down, he was ready to begin jacking off in earnest.

The picture changed to show the powerfully built man's cock moving in and out of the other man's ass. In sync with the video, Mulder pushed the plug in and pulled it back out a few times. The sensation was incredible but he fervently wished there was someone else doing the pumping for him. Someone with big, strong shoulders and a forceful stance who was physically stronger than himself. Someone to envelope him in stalwart arms. Someone else to take control for a while. Someone like...

(Skinner)

Mulder came unexpectedly the second the whispered thought crossed his mind.

He sat dazed for a few seconds, unsure of what to make of it all. Although the worst of the nagging pressure was gone from his balls, he still wasn't sated. He took a shower on autopilot and went back to his place on the couch wearing nothing but a towel.

He was still bored.

"Crap!" he yelled to no one. In disgust, he grabbed the daily paper and began to flip through it. Typical stories of Presidential speeches, Senatorial bickering and the latest sports scores were mindless garbage. He shook the paper thinking maybe it might stir something up and the Friday center section dropped out. Tossing the rest of the useless sheaf aside, he zoned in on the insert.

He amused himself for about five minutes reading the latest movie reviews, Ann Landers (or was it Dear Abby?), and the comics. After that, he was bored again. He grudgingly turned the rest of the pages in hopes that maybe another article would catch his eye, but his hopes were in vain. Closing the insert, he tossed it onto the coffee table so that it landed with the back cover facing upwards. He was about to turn his attention elsewhere when one of the ads captured his focus.

"Bored out of your skull? Add some spice to your life. Go dancing!" the ad read. It listed the address of a nightclub in D.C. If Mulder left soon, he could make it before they started charging cover. Without putting any further thought into it, he jumped up and started putting on a more suitable attire.

***

Friday evening  
Somewhere in D.C.

He expected to have to wait in line and be chosen as with all the hip nightclubs, but to his surprise, the doorman waved him right in keeping out many others that were the usual club hoppers. He didn't complain but ducked inside. Even though it was early, the place was already pretty full. He surveyed the room trying to get a feel for what kind of place he was in.

The walls and ceiling were painted the expected black, but were decorated with bright neon rainbows and posters of buff beefcake boys. Nearly all of the club goers were men, or drag queens. He was suddenly uncomfortable with his decision to come. He didn't have a problem with gays, he just didn't consider himself to be one. About the furthest he was willing to admit was that he was possibly bisexual. The few brief encounters with other men had never been fully consummated. In his mind, a blowjob was a blowjob - it didn't matter who was giving it. Even those, he hadn't had for many years, not since college and the frantic few months following Phoebe's wake.

Hell, with the exception of his usual self manipulation and the one encounter with Kristen, he hadn't had sex with anyone in years. Not that he didn't think about it constantly, he did. Before they had become as close as siblings, he'd even considered approaching Scully once or twice. He shuddered. It was like thinking about incest now.

He gave himself the usual "what-the-hell" routine and joined into the fray, not expecting anything and not looking for it. What he didn't realize is that a man of his good looks gets noticed immediately by anyone and everyone who is looking in his direction. The art of looking, but not *looking*, is perfected by these seekers. What appears to be a cursory glance can gather more information than ever thought possible. A skill that many agents would find beneficiary were they practiced at it.

Mulder leaned against one of the railings, content with looking for the moment and listening to the pounding bass rhythm. He felt a tap on his shoulder and prepared to ward off advances but it was only a roving waiter asking to take his order. He ordered a Snapple iced tea wanting to stay away from alcohol, and went back to his watching. 

People watching was a private perverse pleasure of his. He wondered if all psychologists shared the same secret obsession, it was after all, a major part of the job. He could tell a lot from a person's body language and demeanor. For instance, the tall, thin, blond man dressed in Dockers and a Polo shirt huddling near one of the huge speakers was clearly out for his first time, unsure of how to react to the burning desires inside. The overly loud, swishy, pretty boy that strutted around in front of everyone nearly screamed out that he had no self confidence in his own abilities so he had to put on a show pretending to be someone else. The brooding man, large and furry, nursed his drink looking at no one except for another bearish man across the room. The glances between the two spoke volumes of the pain between them that neither wanted to admit.

And what would Spooky Mulder have to say about himself at this moment of analysis? He tried to view himself from another's eyes, glancing into a nearby mirror made it easier. There stood a man dressed in a silk shirt, tight pants and a look of come-hither written all over his face. It was shocking to see himself like this, it was such an obvious posture. He was surprised that he hadn't been approached before. Not only did he look the part of the seducer he was thinking it as well. Why? He needed to get laid, that's why! It was much easier to have a meaningless encounter here than at a straight bar.

But, he was deluding himself and he knew it. He could get a just as meaningless one-nighter at any bar, with either gender. He had decided to stay because what he wanted was the intensity of another man, the reckless abandon of a blowjob in the bathroom. He felt himself growing hard at the thought of it.

'Why now?' he asked himself, 'why after all of these years do you want this, need this again?' He couldn't answer himself. It didn't make any sense and he just didn't care anymore. A hand touched his shoulder and he thought it was the waiter again.

He turned to find a ruggedly handsome blond, slightly shorter than himself, standing beside him. He was saying something, but the music covered his words.

"What?" Mulder asked, pointing to his ears to signal he hadn't heard him.

The man leaned in closer to him and said, "Do you want to dance?" Mulder nodded and allowed himself to be led onto the crowded floor. What the hell; get a life, right? Many of the other men looked on, jealous that they hadn't approached him first.

They danced together for one, then two and partially into a third song. The other man had noticed his hard-on and had used it as an opportunity to get closer while dancing. The desire built up so strong that Mulder couldn't stand it anymore. He walked off the dance floor and into the bathroom hoping, praying, begging that the other man would follow him. Prayers were answered that night.

They were barely inside the confines of a doorless stall when they fell onto each other, kissing and engulfing each other's mouths as if their lives depended on it. If he didn't get his cock out of his pants soon, he was going to come all over them. He reached down and unzipped the fly, the man immediately dropped to his knees and carefully moved back the rest of the constricting clothing.

He slurped down Mulder's penis in one full stroke. Mulder squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands out to the walls of the stall so that he didn't lose his balance. With his head tilted back, he lost himself to the ministrations of the man's mouth on his cock. Powerful, wet, warm strokes tugged at the pit of his stomach. Each withdrawing stroke was punctuated by a quick circling of the head with the man's tongue, then he would again plunge down, taking in the entire length. Mulder felt the head of his cock touch the back of the man's throat and relished the feeling. Previous lover's hadn't been able to do that, he was considered to be rather large when fully aroused.

The man pulled back with his mouth and concentrate on the tip and the small divot that dwelled there. He worked Mulder's penis with one hand and his balls with the other. He rolled the twin orbs, squeezing and massaging them singly and together. His tongue darted into the crevasse of the head and sucked out the pre-cum that pooled there. All the while, he continued to pump the shaft with swift, steady strokes.

Soon, so very soon now. Mulder knew he was close, the bright flashed of light behind his closed eyelids gave him the first warning. The tightening and pulling of his balls was the second. The sperm burst forth with a rush, pouring out of his rigid, burning cock and into the waiting mouth of the man kneeling before him. The second he started to come, the man again took Mulder's penis into his mouth. He sucked while Mulder was coming and continued until the blood began to recede and Mulder's penis softened.

Mulder sank down onto the toilet seat. He was shaking badly. It had been a very long time since he had come that hard. His head was still spinning. 'That's what you get for being celibate for so damn long,' he thought.

The man stood up and briefly kissed Mulder on the lips before retreating back into the club. No words were exchanged, no reciprocation expected. He left Mulder with the taste of sweat and semen.

After he recovered, Mulder zipped up and left the club. He'd had all he really wanted from the place tonight. Maybe later he would finally work up the courage for something more. Maybe.

***

Saturday Morning  
Crystal City Apartment

Skinner was gripped in the throes of another nightmare. The cursed women were there again: Sharon, the prostitute, the old hag. They were nagging him, tearing at his clothes; all wanting a piece of him. He couldn't escape their clutches. He tried to run but realized he was chained. They kept touching him, arousing him against his wishes, kissing him. They all tasted of death and decay. He gagged in his dream. Fingers probed him. Whining voices cajoled. He had to get away, had to breathe again. 

A bright light shined suddenly in and the women scattered. A figure walked towards him; his salvation from the harpies. All he could make out was the silhouette of the figure, a man. He closed his eyes and sagged against the chains that still bound him to the spot of his torture. Soothing hands undid the chains and spoke comforting words to him.

He felt himself being lifted like a child. He kept his eyes closed, willing to fall back into a sleep that he knew was real, but the dream continued. The man that held him began to touch him as the women did, but instead of being invading, his touch was warm and full of tenderness. His scent was intoxicating.

Skinner's penis grew erect again to his embarrassment. Another man shouldn't have this effect on him. He opened his eyes and mouth to protest but fell silent at the sight of the dream man who held him. It was Mulder! Skinner tried to half-heartedly object but found that he had no voice. Objections died away in his mind.

The dream Mulder continued to stroke his shaft and speak soothing tones to him. Skinner gave up trying to stop it. Unlike the women's attentions, he was enjoying this. It felt so good. In his dream, he lay back and willed it to go on forever.

Warm hands stroked his burning cock, pushing and then pulling the little bit of elasticity still left in the skin surrounding the blood engorged shaft. Dream Mulder's eyes were huge and full of enticement. The twin orbs flecked with blue stared at him, holding his gaze as the dream mouth lowered, taking in the glans and sucking it with excruciatingly slow pulls.

He was falling, tumbling into a spinning vortex of psychedelic erotic images. Everywhere, he saw Mulder's face, disembodied eyes and lips. The lips were everywhere on his body at once, kissing and sucking, nibbling and licking. He saw himself fucking and being fucked. Swollen penis being buried deep within a tight, waiting ass, only to be retrieved and plunged in again. Hips rocking back and forth in a motion that never had to be taught, but was ingrained into the genetic memory from the moment of conception. An explosion in the brain and groin; a moment of culmination of effort bursting forth in triumph to give peace and rest to the straining genital muscles.

His body shuddered and a growing warmth spread across his belly and thighs.

Walter Skinner sat upright in bed, quasi-horrified at the wet dream he had - again. He'd been having the same dream in varying degrees of intensity since Sharon died. This one had been the most desperate yet. He looked down at himself. He had come all over the sheets but his penis was still rock hard and begged his attention. His balls ached with their need for another release. A cold shower wasn't going to help him this time. He groaned and reached into the nightstand drawer for the bottle of lubrication that resided there. He was almost out. It had been used rather frequently as of late.

Squeezing some of the cold, slippery liquid onto his hand, he laid back and closed his eyes. He tried to think of an erotic image that didn't involve the harpies or Mulder. He settled on the image of a girl he knew in high school; a petite thing with dark brown hair and full pouting lips. Cock-sucking lips, the boys used to joke. Rumor was that she was good at it too. He'd never found out. 

As he stroked himself, he imagined her lips surrounding his cock, taking in its length and sucking it hard. The lips caressed the shaft, teasing it with their soft, pliable flesh. Beginning with even, rhythmic strokes, he visualized her head bobbing up and down, the soft dark hair bouncing in time with the strokes. He wanted to reach out and touch that hair, to feel its silky, wild strands on his fingertips. Hair that never stayed in place, but flipped about with wild abandon. Hair riddled with cowlicks, ornery hair - just like Mulder's.

Just the one little slip of thought and the girl's face was replaced by Mulder's. The lips were his and they were definitely cock sucking lips. Skinner found that he didn't want the image changed, not yet anyway. His illusory Mulder continued sucking, but the strokes were no longer even. Fast, fast, slow, fast. Random strokes, varying in speed and intensity.

His breath was coming short and sharp now, the time was at hand. Dream Mulder bobbed down again and pulled back suddenly; Skinner came with a loud moan. Creamy white spurts of semen shooting up and over his hand, landing on the sheets, his legs and belly.

He lay panting afterwards, mind racing around thoughts of Mulder.

"Get control of yourself, Walter," he said aloud. The last thing he needed right now was to become obsessed over one of his agents. Then it hit him, not only was he dreaming of one of his agents - he was fantasizing about a man!

He'd had thoughts about other men before. In Skinner's mind, any man who said he hadn't fantasized about sex with men was either totally impotent or lying. He'd only acted on those thoughts once, there had been other times he'd been very close to it but he had lost his nerve.

It wasn't that he questioned his manhood over the thought of having sex with another man. He had no doubt that he was a man. He also didn't buy into the belief that same-sex encounters were evil or sinful. Sex was a natural process that all reproductive creatures did, plus it felt good. So what was his real problem with his fantasy? It wasn't that it was with another man. It was because that man was Mulder. 

Mulder. The biggest thorn in Skinner's side. He waffled between wanting to promote him or slap him down. He could be the most irritating and the most endearing man Skinner had ever known. He was a brilliant agent and a reckless child. There was no in between ground with Mulder, it was either one extreme or the other. Skinner didn't know how Scully put up with him on a daily basis.

As to Mulder's sexuality, Skinner had no clue. Men who were straight and as pretty as Mulder tended to be very homophobic because of the advances they received by those misreading their beauty. However, if he was so inclined... Skinner shook his head to clear the thought.

Most other men, he could fantasize about and leave it at that - a fantasy. But with Mulder... He didn't want to leave it alone, he wanted to pursue it and knew that he couldn't. Unrequited love (or lust) was a horrible thing. It was just better to leave the whole thing alone. Pick another fantasy lover and forget that this one ever happened.

***

Saturday Evening  
A gay nightclub somewhere in D.C.

Mulder walked into the nightclub again for the second night in a row. This time he had no illusions, no delusions as to what the place was, or why he had come. His eyes scanned the room for the man he had met last night, but either he wasn't around or he was entertaining someone else.

He wasn't too disappointed though, he was already being cruised by several men. He unabashedly returned their gazes holding them level. One man in particular held his attention for a very long time. Neither one of them moved. In the short amount of time, it had become a battle of wills as to who would be the one to walk across the room. Without knowing all the rules, Mulder instinctively knew that if he were the one to move first, he would be the active partner. Selfishly, he didn't want this. After a few minutes, it was clear that the other man wasn't going to move either, so Mulder turned his attention back to the dance floor.

A loud crash came from nearby interrupting his watching. At first, he thought that someone had dropped a load of dishes or tipped over a garbage can. It was an unknown racket. When the first body slammed against a wall, he knew he had guessed wrong. Shouts of horror and anger rose simultaneously and fists flew.

In the darkness of the club, the confusion as to who was fighting whom was crazy. A full riot had sprung up and he was caught right in the middle of it. His only thought was to get out; get away with his skin intact. He backed up cautiously searching for the nearest door.

A beer bottle smashed on the wall next to his head. He gave up caution and bolted for the emergency exit. He had left his badge and gun at home and felt completely naked without them. He had no protection from the brawling. He reached the door and pushed on the bar setting off the fire alarm in the process. Several other men tumbled out after him, all searching for a way out.

He made his way, jogging down the alley, hoping that he could get out unnoticed. He was almost to the safety of the main street when three men jumped out of the shadows in front of him. He skidded to a halt.

"Well, well. What do we have here guys?" one of them said in singsong voice. Mulder's hackles rose. The men were all shaved bald and were sporting shirts emblazoned with a swastika - Neo-nazis. He was in deep shit.

"Looks like we got one of the queer boys trying to escape our little party," another one said. "We can't have that now can we." Mulder began backing up, not taking his eyes off of the three in front of him. If he could get a start, he was sure he could outrun them. He ran all the time and was in shape for it.

"No," a voice said behind him. He was trapped! "We can't let any of them escape until the cops arrive." Rough hand grabbed his arms and pinioned them behind his back, ripping his shirt in the process. All of his defensive instincts kicked in. He twisted and used the self-defense tactics taught by the Bureau. The maneuver surprised his captor and he was able to break free for a second. It was all he needed. Mulder began running as fast as he could straight ahead. The three in front hadn't expected him to run towards them and they were caught off guard.

He breezed by and went into full gear, aware that all four (maybe more?) were on his tail. He broke free of the alleyway and onto the main street right into another throng of skinheads. 'Bad fucking move, Mulder!' he shouted to himself, but it was too late. His momentum carried him forward and he ran into one of the tough looking youths.

His abrupt halt was enough to let the pursuers catch up. The skinhead in front of him assessed the situation immediately and thrust out his fist. Blinding pain crashed into his nose and face. The punch knocked him over and into the waiting fists of the ones behind him. A blow hit his kidneys and he dropped to the ground. Everywhere the fists hit and the feet kicked. Something hit his head hard and hit it again. He felt the outer seam of his pants tear and the asphalt bit into the flesh on his exposed leg.

He forgot about trying to fight back, forgot the defensive moves and curled into a ball, trying to protect his stomach, face and genitals from the onslaught of blows. He cried a silent plea for help, expecting no answer. After what seemed like an eternity of pain and torture, but was actually on about two minutes, he was suddenly left alone.

Muted shouts moved away from him; the kicks and blows stopped. He saw running feet through his blood covered eyes. He tried to move but found that he couldn't, rather than try anymore, he just lay on the street and let unconsciousness take him.

***

Early Sunday morning  
Crystal City apartments

Mulder was in his dreams again but this time they were having sex together in one of the Bureau conference rooms. Since Skinner knew it was a dream, he wasn't nervous about it. The worst thing that could happen is that it would turn into a nightmare and he would have to wake up.

He could almost feel the edge of the highly polished table the dream Mulder was laying on. As always in his dreams, Mulder's eyes were huge, sucking Walter into their depths. Mulder's eyes, body and cock were the only images in sharp focus, everything else was fuzzy around the edges or didn't exist.

In his dream ,Walter plunged deep into the waiting agent, deeper than he ever could in real life, until their bodies melted together only to break apart again when he pulled back.

Amidst the fantasy strokes, sinking inside the dark haired agent, there came the sound of a telephone ringing. In his dream, he knocked the phone off the hook, but it still kept ringing with its persistent chirping.

Deep within the recesses of his mind, he became aware that it was his real, waking world telephone that was ringing off its hook. He groggily rolled over and reached for it, grabbing his glasses in the process. Putting on his glasses to answer the telephone made no sense, but it had become one of those things that he did without thinking.

"Hello?" he said sleepily. The voice speaking to him was unfamiliar and what it was saying was confusing.

"What was that?" he asked. His mind was focusing in on the words, it was something important.

"...one of your agents, I presume. He's in pretty bad shape right now. Got caught in the middle of a hate-crime riot. I think you should arrange to have someone pick him up." It was the D.C. police department. Mulder had been hurt.

Skinner sat up in bed, fully awake now. Damn Mulder to hell for getting into another fix. One of these days he wasn't going to get so lucky and he'd be killed during one of his stupid stunts. Taking chances with his life wasn't his prerogative. He cared nothing for what those around him felt.

"What precinct is he at?" Skinner asked. After receiving the information, he jumped out of bed and pulled on his crisp, gray USMC sweat suit. Throwing on a baseball cap and grabbing his jacket, he left the apartment, preparing to give Mulder a piece of his mind about his reckless ways.

He drove like madman to the precinct. It was after three a.m. and hardly anyone was on the roads so he arrived in record time. The officer in charge came out to personally greet him.

"I'm sorry to get you out of bed at this hour Mr. Skinner, but no one else on his emergency card was answering their phones." Skinner wondered who else besides Scully was listed on that card anyway. Mulder's mother certainly didn't seem to care about her son, God knows his father hadn't. Skinner had witnessed that first hand. He just nodded to the officer.

"What are the charges," Skinner asked, wiping his face with his hand. If he had to post bail, his mood was not going to improve.

"Oh, he's not being held on charges. He should have been taken to a hospital but when we got to him, he started raving like lunatic about no hospitals. We had nowhere else to put him. He was just an innocent bystander who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." The man clamped his mouth shut when he noticed that he was babbling. He was very worried about Mulder pressing charges against the police department. It had happened before.

Skinner stopped abruptly. "You mean none of this is his fault?" he asked. It was hard to believe, but maybe Mulder hadn't done something foolish this time.

"No, sir," the officer replied. "A group of skinheads decided to attack a gay nightclub. Your man was walking down the street and they grabbed him and beat the crap out of him."

Your man, the officer had said. It was a simple statement but it zinged Walter right in his heart. Your man. Was he?

"Well, if there are no charges," Skinner said, "I'll take him home."

"I think you should talk to the resident nurse first. He's sustained some injuries. We've patched him up as best as we could but he'll need looking after." Skinner agreed to talk to the nurse.

'Oh, Mulder,' he thought, 'what have you done to yourself this time.' He waited, trying not to let the look of concern cover his face too much.

***

Early Sunday Morning  
D.C. Police Station

Mulder awoke, not in a hospital, but in a large holding cell filled with other bruised, beaten and bandaged men. Some of them he recognized as other club goers. In another holding cell across the way, he saw several of the skinheads. They were still taunting the ones in his cell. One of the men in the skinhead cell was the one who had stared him down earlier that evening. By refusing to play the game, Mulder had probably saved himself from a fate far worse than beating. 

What the hell had he gotten in the middle of? He didn't understand why he was in jail instead of a hospital but after doing a self-analysis, he figured it was because he wasn't really injured. He hurt like hell but his injuries all seemed to be surface wounds. Someone had bandaged up the cuts and taped his ribs.

He vaguely remembered being lifted into an ambulance and someone asking him questions but that was all he recalled after getting beaten.

He got the full story from one of his cellmates: a local gang of skinheads had decided to crash the nightclub and do as much damage to the "unholy faggots" as they could. Their raid was a success due to the fact that many of the skinheads had posed as club patrons and had infiltrated the club early on. It was rumored that the police had been paid not to arrive the moment the alarm went off, but to wait for a while until the most damage was done. Many of the men dragged into the police station had been, like Mulder, victims in this; not fighting back, but only trying to protect themselves.

"It's like Stonewall all over again," one of the older guys said. "I can't believe they allowed this to happen in this day and age." Many agreed with him. Others didn't and a discussion started up. Mulder just sat back and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the taunting from across the way. 'So much for getting a life,' he thought.

He wondered how he was going to get released when his name was called out by one of the guards. He stood up carefully and was washed over by a bout of dizziness. The guard had to help him out of the cell and down the hall. Mulder felt like a child.

"Somebody has come to pick you up Mr. Mulder," the guard said. "There are no charges against you, so you're free to go." Thank god for small favors.

"We would like to get a statement from you in the next few days, if you could." The guard sounded almost apologetic.

'Well he damn well should,' Mulder thought. He'd just been an innocent bystander in all of this. 

He signed for his personal effects and walked out the frosted glass doors to his savior. When he saw who was waiting for him he stopped in his tracks and his knees went weak. It was Skinner! He had expected Scully, his mom, or Frohike. The last person he expected to see was Skinner.

'Gods above,' he thought, 'why'd it have to be *him* of all people.' Skinner was the one person, besides his father, that never seemed to approve of anything he did. He'd never be able to explain this to Skinner. He was dead meat. Mulder refused to meet his boss' eyes and unsteadily walked out the door that Skinner was holding for him.

They silently trekked to Skinner's car that was parked in a reserved stall under the police station. 

'He must have pulled strings to come here and get me,' Mulder thought. He still didn't understand why it was that Skinner was here. He didn't want to think about it.

"Your emergency card has my name listed on it next to Scully's," Skinner said as if reading Mulder's mind. That explained it. The cops had gone through his wallet and called the first two numbers. Obviously, Scully wasn't home; she was still on vacation. Mulder vowed to change that card immediately and put Frohike - or anyone else - down as the next point of contact. He couldn't have Skinner find him again in a compromising situation.

Skinner unlocked the passenger side and helped Mulder get in. The young agent was still unsteady on his feet. The police nurse had said that he'd taken several blows to the head and to keep an eye on him for a few days.

Skinner had a million questions in his mind about what had happened and why Mulder was there in the first place. He pushed them aside. He had an agent who was hurt in a situation where it wasn't his fault and needed attention. Mulder probably thought that he was angry with him. The sullen look on the younger man's face was the same one he wore when Skinner finished chewing him out for bad field reports.

"The officer in charge made it quite clear that you are not to blame for anything and that no charges are being made against you," Skinner said. He had to reassure Mulder that he wasn't angry, just concerned. He wanted to reach out and hold him close and tell him that everything would be all right - but he didn't. He couldn't. The dream Mulder was not the same as the one sitting next to him.

"They want you to make a statement so that the men who did this to you can be charged with assault and battery. They also want to see if you can make a positive ID on some of them that got away." Since Mulder was a FBI agent, the local cops figured they could get his full cooperation.

"What were you doing out there anyway?" Skinner wanted to bite his own tongue off for asking that. Don't ask, don't tell was the policy. It was none of his damn business. If it was what he suspected, it would just embarrass Mulder further. Sometimes, it would be beneficial to all of mankind if words could be retracted before being heard.

Mulder just snorted derisively as if saying why do you care. His head hurt, his ribs hurt and he generally felt like shit. All he wanted to do was to sleep and be left alone.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that," Skinner said, surprising the hell out of Mulder. He'd never heard the AD apologize for anything. In fact, he'd thought that the concept of being wrong about anything was foreign to Skinner. The man was such a deliberate ice-cube most of the time. No feelings breached the walls that surrounded him. Even after the incident with his ex-wife, he showed nothing. The only emotion Mulder had ever witnessed from him was anger, but even that was tightly controlled.

"Where are you taking me?" Mulder asked when the surrounding roads became unfamiliar. This wasn't the way to his apartment.

"Uh, you can't be alone for at least 48 hours," Skinner said hesitantly. He was clearly uncomfortable with the situation at hand. "I'm taking you to my apartment. It's either that or you go to the hospital." He was very nervous about having Mulder at his place. Already, the proximity of the younger man was affecting him. He had to get a grip on reality soon or he would do something that would be detrimental to them both; he would make a pass at Mulder. 

Mulder took Skinner's nervousness to be dislike but he was too tired to fight about the arrangement. He sat back into the seat and gazed out the window.

When Mulder didn't protest, Skinner was astonished. He worried that the agent had been more seriously damaged than the police nurse had assessed. He was used to having Mulder argue about everything, beneficial or not. It was his way; nothing could be accepted at face value. 

"One question," Mulder said. His eyes were still closed and his voice heavy with sleep. "Why wasn't I taken to a hospital to begin with?"

Skinner began to worry even more about his injuries, especially the ones to his head. Mulder had been hauled into the police station semi-conscious, raving that he didn't want to go to the hospital and swearing at anyone who tried to take him to one.

"You don't remember telling the cops not to take you?" It was unlike Mulder to forget anything with his perfect memory.

Mulder's eyes flew open and he glared harshly at Skinner. No, he hadn't remembered. In fact, he remembered nothing after he passed out on the pavement. No wonder Skinner was taking him to his apartment. He must have sustained a head injury, it would explain his memory loss and excessive sleepiness. He slumped back into the car seat, oblivious to the rest of the trip.

***

Half-carrying and half dragging a fully-grown man is not an easy task, even for someone in very good shape. Skinner was having a terrible time getting Mulder up to his apartment. The agent was barely conscious and not of any help.

 Once inside the safety of the apartment, he put Mulder on the couch and was off to find bedding and clothing for the wounded agent. His silken shirt was bloodied and torn and the pants were in shreds.

He went to his dresser drawer and pulled out a tee-shirt and pair of sweat pants. They would be too large for Mulder but they would have to do for now. He grabbed a pillow off of his bed and a blanket and headed downstairs. 

Mulder was already asleep on the couch. Skinner hated to do it but he had to wake the agent up. It was nearly impossible to dress a sleeping adult. He'd also have to check on him regularly, due to his head injuries.

"Mulder, wake up." When Mulder's eyes fluttered open, Skinner asked him the date and his name. Mulder passed the test after he realized it was no longer Saturday night. He faded in and out of consciousness as Skinner hastily dressed him and put him to bed.

He walked away from the sleeping agent not daring to look back. If he looked back, it would be as fatal as Lot's wife turning to catch a glimpse of the burning city, only Walter wouldn't turn into a pillar of salt. No, Walter's punishment for looking back would be that he would lose all control and fall hopelessly in lust with Fox Mulder.

He pulled off his own clothes, climbed back into bed and willed himself into a dreamless sleep. There were only a few hours left until sunrise.

***

In his dream, Mulder was back with Samantha, playing Stratego again. 'No,' he cried, 'not again. Not this dream,' but he was an unwilling pawn to his subconscious. It replayed the terrible night. The shaking of the room, the bright lights, Samantha crying out his name, crying for help. Grabbing the gun and being powerless to do anything as he watched the evil light steal his sister.

Normally it ended there, but this time it continued with the return of his parents. His father shaking him so hard that he thought his head would fall off, screaming at him about what happened. He couldn't speak, only cry, which made his father even angrier, calling him weak. A mother who wouldn't comfort but only stared at him in horror and walked away.

He cried out, "its not my fault!" But no one listened.

***

No sooner had Walter fallen asleep when a shout from downstairs woke him up. He was out of bed in an instant and racing downwards to see what had happened, oblivious to his state of undress.

Mulder was thrashing about on the couch, crying out in his sleep, gripped in the clutches of his own private hell. Walter was afraid that he would hit his head again, the thrashing was so intense.

Skinner reached down and tried to restrain Mulder. The agent resisted at first, but Walter was more insistent. He gathered the younger man up in his arms, holding him, rocking him and reassuring him that it was just a dream. His tactic worked, Mulder calmed down, but still sobbed in his sleep. What kinds of dreams were so terrible that it made him sound as if his heart was breaking?

He sat on the couch, rocking Mulder for several minutes. When he tried to disengage, to leave the agent sleeping, Mulder would start thrashing again. Resignedly, Skinner continued to hold him. It felt good, too good, to hold him in his arms. Natural, was the only word that came to mind. Walter was very aware of Mulder's body pressed against his own, the younger man's back brushing against his groin.

Soon, Mulder's sobs turned into regular breaths, and Walter knew the agent was calmed down again. Rationalizing about not wanting to risk another bout of thrashing, Walter gently lifted Mulder up and carried him to his bed. He found that lifting him like a child was much easier than trying to support him as he had earlier. Mulder was as tall as Walter, but weighed much less.

He laid him on the bed, on what used to be Sharon's side, and climbed in against him, never breaking contact so as not to disturb Mulder's sleep.

'What the hell are you doing, Skinner?' he asked himself as he embraced Mulder and pulled him closer to his own nude flesh. He closed his eyes and refused to answer his internal question. He just wasn't going to go there now.

***

Sunday Mid-morning  
Crystal City Apartments

It was an unfamiliar smell that first dragged him towards consciousness, the smell of clean sheets. Fabric softener scented like flowers of some kind. He rarely used sheets on his couch at home and never used a fabric softener, so he guessed that he wasn't in his apartment.

The sun was at a wrong angle. There was also a pair of arms holding him, making him feel safe and comforted. He was aware that whoever owned those arms had held him most of the night, soothing him, telling him that things were going to all right. That was the most foreign thing, someone actually comforting him. It felt so good not to be yelled at for being scared.

He went to move his head and winced in pain as one of the bumps brushed the pillowcase. He did a self check again. His head still hurt but didn't throb, his nose was tender and his ribs, well, they were still taped. If he didn't breath in too fast or start laughing , he should be fine. Last night's events came flooding back into his skull. 

Nightclub. Fight. Jail. Skinner. Oh god, he was still at Skinner's! He opened his eyes. He was laying on his side, and from his viewpoint a large mirrored closet showed him laying on the bed, with Skinner's arms wrapped around him. There was no doubting it now, he was in bed with Skinner.

His first reaction was to jump away. This was the man who constantly growled at him, made him do his reports over again, and never smiled. But, he was also the man who re-opened the X-Files after Scully's abduction, refused to accept his resignation and was also a pillar of solidity in the crazy world. Mulder knew that Skinner had had his fair share of crap in the past year with the business of the prostitute and his ex-wife. He had helped his boss through that difficult time, knowing in his heart that Skinner was not to blame.

Had it been that somewhere in all of that, he was growing attracted to his boss? His psychologist side pointed out that Skinner was an authority figure, and that he, Mulder, had always craved a loving authority figure in his life. He told his psychologist side to shut the hell up, he wasn't looking for a daddy. Father/authority figures tended to piss him off too much.

But, here he was, in Skinner's arms and not too unhappy about it. In fact, he was rather comfortable and not willing to have anything change for now. The only question burning in his mind was what were Skinner's motivations?

As far as he knew, Skinner was straight. The man had been married for seventeen years to a woman. He had been a Marine before that. Also, one didn't get promoted to the position of Assistant Director if one had dirty little secrets such as what the government called "abnormal sexuality." So, either Skinner was really accomplished at covering up his true feelings and desires, or he was straight. And if he really was so straight, then why did he have a hard on?

Mulder could feel the older man's penis against his back, and it was rock hard. He couldn't tell if Skinner was awake or not. The breathing was regular, but that didn't mean anything. It was easy to fake like you're asleep if you have good control over yourself, and of all people, Skinner had excellent control.

Mulder liked the idea that Skinner's hard on might be for him. The AD was a good looking man, he just seemed so stand offish most of the time that no one was willing to get near to him. If he was excited by Mulder, it would prove that the man really did have feelings.

Mulder gingerly rolled over to face Skinner. The older man didn't move at all so he figured that he really was asleep. In his usual, devil-may-care way, he pulled back the covers to reveal more of the AD's body. For a man of him age, Skinner was in prime condition. There was no extra weight being carried on his body and his muscle structure was like that of body-builder, not the Schwarzenegger kind, but the fully toned, realistic ones. He was wearing nothing but his patch of pubic hair that couldn't possibly cover his engorged cock.

Was he the someone Mulder had been looking for? Not thinking and certainly not caring about the consequences, Mulder pulled back the rest of the covers and gazed at Skinner's penis. It was the perfect shape and size to fit the rest of his body. It bobbed slightly against the smooth flesh of Skinner's stomach, anticipating release. 

He bent down and without another thought, took it into his mouth, tasting the salty skin and feeling the veins with his tongue. His mind started screaming at him to stop, this was his boss, not some guy in a bar, but he shut his parental voices off and continued sucking. He wasn't accomplished at the task, but he knew what felt good.

He experimented taking more and more of the organ into his mouth. Skinner wasn't huge, but he was definitely large enough to fill Mulder's mouth completely and go into the back of his throat. Working the base of the shaft with his hand, he licked and pulled at the top with his tongue. Skinner moaned and moved about in his sleep.

***

He was dreaming again, but this time it was so intense! He could actually feel Mulder's breath on his stomach, feel the slight scraping of teeth against his cock. He reached out in his sleep to feel the hair, to touch his head, and came in contact with very real feeling hair.

This was the best wet dream he had ever had. Nothing before had felt so real. 

He heard a sound, the bed creaked. Realized that Mulder really was in his bed and not in his arms where he had last been. Skinner opened his eyes and for a moment, thought that he was still dreaming. Looking down, he saw Mulder's head bobbing up and down, engulfing his cock, but this time - it was no dream.

He gasped. Something in side told him to stop it now, to push Mulder away and quit before things got out of hand. He ignored the order, his hands instead reaching down and playing with the hair he had dreamed about so much lately.

Mulder whimpered when one of Skinner's fingers brushed a sore spot. Skinner then remembered that the agent was not in the best condition to be giving a blowjob. He started to say something but at that moment, his body overrode his control and he came.

Mulder felt the rush of sperm flow into his mouth. He quickly swallowed to avoid any gag reflex he may have had. Skinner was trembling beneath him, his flesh cool and wet with sweat. He licked off the tip of the softening penis and for the first time, dared to look up at Skinner.

The older man wasn't looking at him but stared straight up at the ceiling, his hands still playing with Mulder's hair, gently stoking it. Mulder took a chance and moved up along side of him hoping to be embraced again.

Without looking at him still, Skinner pulled him close. As long as he didn't look down, didn't see that it was Mulder, he could pretend that this was still a dream - right? He closed his eyes and cursed himself for allowing things to go this far. He wanted Mulder so bad, and now that it was known that Mulder felt the same way, he knew that it couldn't continue. He would lose his job, and Mulder would lose what scraps of credibility he had left if word ever got out.

Not only that, but the Cancerman would have them both by the balls. It was too risky, not to mention that it broke every rule of boundaries Skinner was aware of. Bosses did not have sex with their employees if they wanted things to work out well. Work relationships never worked.

Mulder sensed Skinner's uncertainty, knew of the consequences they both shared, but he didn't care. He'd lived with consequences and tough choices his entire life. He wasn't about to give up something that felt so good based on what might happen.

He ran his hand over Skinner's chest, playing with the hairs he found. Skinner lay still, barely breathing but not interfering either. With Mulder touching him, he felt himself growing hard again. Gods, twice in one morning was outrageous. He'd never had anyone do this to him before. Mulder's touch was electric, setting off all sorts of signals in Skinner's mind.

It didn't escape Mulder's attention that Skinner was getting aroused again. He was pleased that it hadn't been a one time fluke. His own cock grew hard in response. He leaned over and kissed the older man's chest, taking one nipple into his mouth and tugging at it. Skinner let out a loud sigh.

Screw the boundaries, forget the rules. He pulled Mulder up to him and kissed him deeply. He felt the scratch of the younger man's beard against his chin; felt his mouth moving in tandem with his own trying to take everything in at once. Tasting the lips he had dreamed about was pure bliss.

His hands wandered down over the supple swimmer's body, pausing at the tape around the ribs. It was another spot to be careful with. 'Head, nose and ribs were sore spots,' he reminded himself. He didn't want to cause Mulder any more pain, he had suffered enough at the hand of his attackers.

He gingerly and experimentally touched Mulder's penis. The younger man shuddered with delight and made a small noise in the back of his throat. Besides his own, Skinner had touched only one other man's penis before. The sensation was unusual but thrilling. He cupped his hand over the top, engulfing the head in the palm. He created a sucking motion with his hand, imitating the movement of a jellyfish. Mulder moaned and writhed under the touch.

Mulder's hand moved to encompass Skinner's cock as well and they mutually stroked each other, each one sighing and moaning with pleasure. Skinner moved his hand down and encircled the shaft. He used the same milking, stroking motion on Mulder's organ as he did his own when he masturbated. He was rewarded with Mulder's gasps of ecstasy. 

The younger man moved his hips in rhythm in order to capture the full effect of Skinner's strokes. Rough skin, calluses against the sensitive epidermis. It was perfectly delicious. Skinner's stroking became more erratic, more frenzied and Mulder guessed it was because the older man was going to come again.

Showers of warm seed gushed over his hand. He bucked into Skinner's grasp harder, willing himself to come soon, to release his pent-up frustration and allow it to mingle with the sperm coating his own hand. His body responded to his wishes. His balls twitched as the milky fluid rose. It didn't shoot outwards but poured over the side like thick lava.

He bit his lower lip as he came and shook with small aftershocks. His hand was still around Skinner's cock, even though it had begun to shrink. He released his grasp to stretch his cramping fingers.

His withdrawal broke the spell. Skinner pulled his hand away and sat upright. Mulder tumbled off of him and hit his head and the headboard.

"OW!" he yelped. Skinner ignored him and went into the bathroom. 'Well thank you very much, sir,' he thought sarcastically. Nothing like being dumped right after putting out. Now he knew how countless teenage girls felt after their first time.

***

Skinner sat on the toilet seat shaking so badly that he thought the whole apartment complex could feel it. Damn it all! Why, why, why had he lost control? He railed at himself silently. It was a stupid thing to do, to encourage him like that. He placed the blame entirely on himself. Mulder couldn't possible be in his right mind, not after what had occurred to him last night and Skinner had taken advantage of it.

He'd acted out of blind lust and it was going to cost him. Now, he was going to have to go back out to Mulder and tell him that it couldn't continue. If he had stopped him sooner, this never would have happened. 

'If you hadn't taken him to bed with you, you mean,' he corrected himself. Gods, he'd really fucked things up this time. Part of him wanted to be angry with Mulder, but he couldn't. 

He turned on the shower and got in, rinsing away the evidence of their union. He stood for a long time, letting the water pound him and thinking about how to approach Mulder.

***

Mulder heard the shower start. He was beginning to get angry with Skinner. He didn't like being left behind after sex. If it bothered Skinner so much, why didn't he say something instead of just running away. Hell, he could at least handle this like an adult!

He angrily got off the bed and pulled the too big sweat pants up around his waist, tightening the drawstring as much as he could to keep them from slipping. He found his way downstairs and retrieved his shoes and torn clothing. He considered leaving without any notice but thought better of it.

Searching the apartment, he found paper and pen and left Skinner a rushed, angry note.

"Sir," the note started, "It's obvious that you're uncomfortable with what has occurred. I don't want to stick around and cause you any more discomfort than I already have. Thanks for getting me out of trouble last night and I'm sorry that I fucked up again. You won't hear another word about this from me." It was simply signed with an M. 

Grabbing his stuff, he left the apartment and hailed a cab outside to take him home.

***

Still dripping wet from the shower, Skinner found the note on the kitchen table. He cursed aloud, using every word he knew of and making up a few as he went along. He had wanted, needed to talk to Mulder before he left. It bothered him terribly that the young man was wandering around physically and emotionally injured. He wished that Mulder would have waited until he could at least give him a ride home.

He pulled some clothes on and prepared to go find his errant agent.

***

 

* * *

 

Sunday Noon   
Mulder's Apartment

He was in a horribly foul mood. First the fight, then Skinner, then a taxi ride that cost him a small fortune. Damn! The day had barely begun and already it had gone to shit.

He had jumped into the shower the minute he arrived home to try and wash off the dried blood, sweat and traces of Skinner that were still left on him. Once out of the shower, he pulled on a clean tee-shirt and for reasons he couldn't explain, the sweatpants that Skinner had loaned him sans underwear. He didn't want to let the good part of the memory fade just yet.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Skinner's flesh, felt his hands on him, tasted his fluids. It wasn't helping matters any at all. It had all felt so right, why was it so wrong? He picked up his basketball and began the incessant bouncing that drove his neighbors crazy. He didn't care what they thought, it helped him work out his frustration.

Bounce. Damn Skinner and his involvement anyway. Bounce. Why did he have to be the one to pick him up. Bounce, bounce. If he had hated it so much why hadn't he stopped him sooner? Bounce. They had both enjoyed it, he knew that. Bounce, bounce, bounce.

Someone knocked on his door. It wasn't the usual pounding that he received from an annoyed neighbor, but a light, almost hesitant knock. He tossed the basketball off into a corner and went to open the door. He was ready for a fight if need be.

The door opened revealing a sheepish looking Skinner. Mulder glared at him and turned away, not shutting the door. Skinner stepped inside, shutting and latching the door behind him. He didn't want anyone disturbing them right now, he had too many things to say.

"You shouldn't have run off like that. Who knows the extent of your injuries." He snapped his mouth shut. This wasn't the way he wanted to start things. Scolding Mulder wasn't going to earn him any points.

"Gee, thanks for you concern, sir," Mulder spat out sarcastically, rhyming the word sir with cur. 

Skinner sighed and stuck his hands into his coat pockets. He'd blown it already. Mulder was very defensive without provocation. Now it would be doubly difficult to win back his trust. He walked over to the couch and sat down, taking off his glasses as he always did when having to discuss something that was difficult.

"Mulder, I'm sorry I freaked out on you back there." Start with an apology. It worked most of the time. He meant it though. This whole incident wasn't Mulder's fault.

The agent just stared back at him, not moving at all.

"My reaction afterward had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the situation." That had come out badly but he hoped Mulder had gotten the point. "You see, I could lose my job and so could you. I shouldn't have allowed things to get out of control. It's my fault." His verbalizations came out disjointed and he hoped that he was making sense. He sighed again and rubbed his eyes. May as well start at the beginning, he thought.

"I guess that I've been attracted to you for some time. I don't know when it started or how, but it did. I wanted you near me last night, wanted to hold you at the police station, wanted a million things, but I shouldn't have acted upon them because I'm your boss. I've taken advantage of my station and your condition and it was wrong." The words spilled out quickly, still confused and jumbled.

Mulder still stared at him, not responding. Skinner didn't know what else to say to the man. He sat staring at the floor for several minutes.

"You can't take responsibility for my actions," Mulder finally said. It was a simple statement and a very true one. Skinner was trying to take all of the blame upon himself. "I'm not a child, I knew full well what I was doing. I wasn't a passive party in any of this, in fact, I instigated it."

Skinner looked up at him to see his face as best as he could without the glasses. He didn't want to put them back on yet, they acted too much like a shield.

"Do you really think that I didn't weigh the consequences before I acted?" Mulder hadn't really, but he never did. "I wanted you, you wanted me. What was the harm?"

"The harm is that we could lose our jobs," Skinner said. It would be very hard for him to find another one these days. "It may not seem like much to you Mulder, but I'm 47 years old. It would get harder everyday to find something if I needed to."

"That's only if someone find out, which they won't 'cuz I'm not talking," Mulder said. His stubborn stance so much like a proud little boy's, daring anyone to push him down.

"You don't understand Mulder," Skinner said, "it's not about them finding out about this one incident, it's about the fact that I don't want it to end." There he'd said it. Thrown it out on the table. He was completely vulnerable now having aired his deepest desire. Mulder could make or break him here with his response.

Skinner's admission astounded Mulder. This, he hadn't expected. So Skinner wanted to continue what they had started. His heart flipped about six times in his chest. The thought excited him. Skinner, a regular lover. Well, regular wasn't the right word. Having a sexual relationship with your boss could never be regular. They would have to be very, very careful.

"If you don't want it to end, then you're going to have to call me something else than Mulder. It reminds me too much of work," he said flippantly. If Skinner was just going to up and admit that he wanted a relationship, then Mulder was all to willing to go along with it. It was relieving to stop playing around with words for once and just say what he really felt.

Skinner almost fell off the couch in shock. Any more severe surprises like this and he would probably have a heart attack. Mulder wanted it to continue as well. He wanted to jump up and shout. It was like being accepted on a first date. He hadn't felt this young and stupid in love since--Well, it had been a very, very long time. Gods, could they really make this work?

"Mulder, I..." Skinner started but was stopped by Mulder's hand in the air.

"If we are going to continue this, I can't have you calling me that outside of the office."

"Even though I really don't like the name, call me Fox," Mulder said. He turned his back to Skinner and looked out the window. "As long as its said with kindness, lust or love, it doesn't really bother me." Skinner nodded mutely. The simple statement revealed more about Mulder's past than Skinner would have ever known from personnel files.

"What am I supposed to call you?" Fox asked turning back to face him. 

"Anything but sir," Skinner quipped when he had found his voice again. "Walter works."

"OK, Walter, now what?" Skinner had no idea. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm kind of new at this," he said. "I'm not sure what to do next." Fox moved towards him and sat down on the couch. Neither one looked at the other. Like two shy teenagers they hesitantly took each other's hand.

"What are we going to do about work?" Fox asked. "We can't let on that anything has occurred."

Walter thought for a moment. "If I continue to yell at you on a regular basis, no one will be the wiser," he said dryly. Fox chuckled. It was all too true. If they just acted like they always did and were careful with their liaisons, no one would suspect.

Fox leaned closer, needing the physical comfort. Walter sat back onto the couch and put his arm around the younger man. He fit so well under his arm. It was as if he always belonged there.

"Are you going to tell Scully?" he asked. He knew that the two of them were close. He needed to know how close. 

"If it were anyone else but you, yes I would. But I think it would be safer for all of us if she didn't know," Fox said. "I've kept things from her before. I think that I can keep this a secret." He hoped that he could. Scully was a very perceptive woman. If he could pass the next few weeks without her guessing, he would consider it a success. He hated to keep things from her, but the less she knew, the safer she would be. He couldn't afford to drag her down with him, he cared about her too much.

Walter stroked Fox's shoulder while he talked. This close contact was something he craved. He didn't understand how people could go most of their lives without physical touch. Now that he had him, Walter didn't want to let Fox go.

"I have to go to work tomorrow," he said, changing the subject. "But, I think you should take a day or two off to give yourself time to recover. This morning's, uh, activities were probably a bit too soon."

"Activities?" Mulder said incredulously. "God, Walter, you can't even say it. We had *sex*! It's not a bad word, you know. And anyway, I'm never to sick to come."

He said it with such finality that Walter actually laughed aloud, shocking Fox twice in one day. Not in the three years that he had had direct contact with the AD had he ever, and he meant *ever*, heard him laugh. The man rarely grinned and never full on smiled. The change was astounding. Walter's face looked completely different when he laughed. The years of hardness, the clenched jaw, the steely eyes all melted away as the mirth spread across his face. 

He leaned against Walter's chest and laughed along with him, even though it hurt. Then, unspoken, they both looked into each other's eyes, searching for the truth. Whatever it was that they found, they both liked because their lips met, not in a kiss full of lust, but one of love, tender and long.

"Why don't you pack a few things and come back to my apartment with me?" Walter asked. He would have volunteered to stay at Fox's place if the man had a bed.

"I thought you said that I should rest," Fox teased. It was the same tone he used when asking a favor or an outlandish request at the office, but this time it didn't annoy the older man.

"Oh, you'll get rest. I'll see to that," Walter said. "I still don't think that you should be alone though."

Fox sat up and flashed Walter a truly twisted smirk. "Oh, sure. And I'm supposed to believe that story huh? I just think you can't stand to let a gorgeous guy like me out of your sight!"

Walter had heard that last line from somewhere before. His mind sped to find the reference. It took him a few seconds but he found it.

A ha! "Why you low down, no good, half-witted, scruffy-looking...." Walter started. He'd only seen the movie about five times but he was sure he had it right.

"Nerf herder!" they said in unison. He should have known that Mulder was a Star Wars fan. They laughed again, Walter chuckling loudly and Fox sounding off little hiccup-like giggles because of his ribs.

"What exactly is a Nerf anyway?"

"Some kind of space cow, or something, I think," Fox said and for an unknown reason, that set them off again. They didn't stop laughing for a long time, and when they did, both had tears running down their faces. Fox fell in love with him at that instant. For years later, if asked, he would be able to pinpoint the exact time when Walter Skinner stopped being a boss and became the love of Fox Mulder's life.

Walter looked down at his watch, it read 1:53pm. God, he'd been here talking for almost two hours and it had only felt like a few minutes. He helped Fox up and they gathered some clothes and toiletries for him.

***

Sunday Evening  
Crystal City Apartments

Fox was rather impressed by the comfortable nest Walter had created on the couch. The piles of pillows and blankets combined with Walter's lap made a very cushy rest place for his aching body.

True to his word, Walter was making sure that he was resting. Rest didn't mean sleep though. They lounged together on the couch watching television and relishing in the other's touch. After being alone for so long, Fox was enjoying just being close and dreaming about the times to come once he was fully healed.

"So what were you really doing at that bar last night?" Walter asked. His curiosity had overcome his good sense to keep his mouth shut. It was an affliction he had had when he was a child. Luckily for his own personal safety he had outgrown the bad habit. It had taken the fists of a few older and tougher boys, but eventually Walter had learned to think before opening his mouth. But, some habits die hard.

"Uh," Fox hesitated. He didn't want to tell Walter. It was embarrassing enough to be driven to the lengths he had been for a blowjob. It suddenly sounded really pathetic.

"I'm sorry again," Walter said. "That's the second time I've asked you that and its really none of my business. I have a bad case of open-mouth, insert-foot."

"It's just that it's embarrassing,' Fox explained about his reluctance. "It's the first time in years that I'd been to a nightclub and I happened to pick a gay one."

"So you're not... I mean you consider yourself straight, or is it bi?" Walter didn't know what he considered himself. He'd never thought about it before.

"Well, I guess I'd have to say that I'm bi, if you have to put a label to it. I've been mostly with women but get just as turned on by guys. I resisted being with guys more because of my father. I disappointed him so much that I gave up what I really craved: another man. He's probably rolling around in his grave right now, shouting that he was right, and that I'm nothing more than a sissy faggot." The bitterness and hurt in Fox's voice was sharp. Walter found himself suddenly hating Bill Mulder, a father with such contempt for his son that even after his death, the son couldn't shake the memory.

"What about you?" Mulder asked, pushing the memories away.

"I've never really thought about it," Walter said. "I had one experience in Vietnam with a guy but I didn't really take it seriously. I never talked about it and tried not to think of it too much. At the time, I put it down to being alone in a jungle with nothing but a bunch of other horny guys. Now, I'm not so sure." He paused and shifted in his seat.

"I've always subscribed to the idea that people should have sex with who they want to regardless of gender or other labels," he continued. "I guess its sort of a variation on the 'everyone is bisexual to some degree' theory. I just never acted on my desires before... well before you."

"Why me?" Fox asked. He didn't understand what other people saw in him. In his eyes, he was a pathetic catch, riddled with emotional and social problems. If another profiler were to do a serious in-depth look at his life, he would probably be listed as a possible serial killer - all the pieces were there.

Walter shrugged, a blush appeared on his cheeks. "I think I fell in lust with you the first time I laid eyes on you." It had been at one of the large mandatory meetings held annually for all FBI personnel. He hadn't known who the young man was, but he felt his eyes drawn to him throughout the evening. Since he had just been promoted to Assistant Director it was easy for him to ask the other AD standing beside him the identity of the dark-haired handsome man. It had been his first glimpse at the brilliant young man nicknamed Spooky.

He had been able to entertain many fantasies about Mulder until the day that the X-Files had transferred to Walter's division. He still remembered the day vividly. At the time, he hadn't thought to question why "Spooky" Mulder and Dana Scully were being assigned to his team, he had just seen the end of his casual fantasies.

"Then, when you were assigned under me," Walter said, "I only thought of you as another agent. I was trying to save my marriage so I couldn't spend a lot of time thinking about you or anything else." It wasn't exactly the truth, but he wasn't going to let everything out immediately.

"It wasn't until that damned Tooms case that I realized I wasn't going to be able to forget about you so easily. You were in my face everyday. You and that infectious cologne you wear." Mulder smiled at that. He hadn't thought that his cologne would have an effect on anyone.

"After Sharon left, you were there. You were the only one who stood by me, even after all the shit I put you through. Since her leaving, I've dreamed about you almost every night. Then you and Scully would come into my office for a meeting and I'd smell your cologne again." He looked down at Fox. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to have a sense of composure behind a desk when all you want to do is ravish the person sitting across from you and knowing that you can't?"

Fox didn't respond, he was too shocked. Not only did Walter want him -he wanted him bad!

"Well, I tell you," Walter said. "It's damn difficult. Your smell alone would give me a hard-on. I sincerely hope that Kim never noticed. It would offend her little religious self." He fell silent again, smiling to himself. There had been many times where he had stayed behind his desk for a very long time until his penis had softened again. It was rather evident in his form-fit suit slacks when it was hard.

Fox kissed the palm of Walter's hand and laid it against his cheek. Unbidden, a few tears of happiness leaked out of the corner of his eyes. How long had it been that he had wished for someone in his life that cared. He didn't expect this relationship with Walter to last long - it was too dangerous. But as long as it lasted, he would make the most of it, relishing in the knowledge that someone really wanted him.

Skinner felt the wetness on his hand and was immediately concerned. Who knew what kind of emotional bombs Mulder had buried inside. He was afraid that he had just triggered one.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yeah," Fox sniffed. "I'm just going through one of those sappy sentimental moments right now. I'm sorry." He hated that he cried at the drop of a hat. His father had constantly berated him for it which only made matters worse since it made him cry harder.

Walter gathered him so that their faces were close. "Don't ever apologize for crying Fox," he said very seriously. "It's a natural thing, nothing to be ashamed of. Believe it or not, I've cried many times." He thought about something for a moment and then said, "I can't believe how stupid that just sounded."

Despite his aching ribs, Fox burst into laughter again. Who would have guessed that the AD had a well developed, albeit twisted, sense of humor?

"That's OK," Fox said. "You can say all the stupid things you want. My life has been lacking in silly encouragement lately."

Walter leaned over more and gently kissed Fox's lower lip. His desires seesawed between wanting to comfort the younger man, making everything better or ravishing his body repeatedly. He devised a plan to where he could do both without further injuring him. He broke off the kiss and unraveled himself from the tangle of blankets and Mulder.

"Where are you going?" Fox asked.

"I've got to take care of a few little things upstairs and I'll be right back."

"That didn't answer my question," Fox said to Walter's back as he retreated up the stairs. He got the feeling that the older man was up to something that didn't involve resting. Fox smiled at the thought. He didn't want to rest anymore. He didn't feel up to rough, wild sex but he certainly wasn't completely out service. To prove his point, his cock grew hard, rubbing up against the rough interior of the borrowed sweat pants. He reached down inside the sweats and lazily stroked it, teasing it even harder. If he could show Walter how much in need he was, he may get a blowjob out of it.

Walter came back downstairs a few minutes later and caught Fox half-dangling off the couch with his hand down his pants. Fox looked up at him with heavy lidded eyes and long lashes; pink tongue dating out between his sultry lips to moisten his mouth. He was the perfect picture of seduction. Walter's eyes glazed and the room suddenly felt much too hot. He found himself breathing heavily and feeling very much like a rabid predator.

Fox took full advantage of the situation. He withdrew his hand from teasing his cock and brought the fingers to his lips, licking them slowly in a move borrowed from every porn movie in the universe. By the look on Walter's face, the move worked. He stood stock still, lust radiating from every pore in his body. Fox could literally see the struggle between animal and man in his eyes.

"Maybe I should call you Vixen instead," Walter rasped. His instinct was to push Fox down and violate him from behind. The animal lust was so strong.

"Maybe you should shut up and do something before I get bored and fall asleep," Fox retorted. Vixen, indeed! For that remark, Walter would find out that this Fox had very sharp teeth.

Walter crossed the room in three steps. He loomed dangerously over the couch, looking much taller than he was. Just as quickly as he had approached, he dropped to the floor in front of Fox, placing himself between the younger man's legs.

With his heart pounding in his chest, he pulled down the front of the sweats catching the head of Fox's penis on the scratchy fabric. A hiss escaped the man's lips and he closed his eyes awaiting the ecstasy to come. Walter tugged the pants down further, over Fox's rounded ass and down to his ankles. He then spread his legs wider and positioned him so that the edge of his ass was right on the edge of the couch: Walter wanted full access to his cock.

He dipped down and kissed the purpled head. The masculine musk mixed with sweat, semen and Mulder's cologne assaulted his nose and triggered the erotic switch in his mind. He opened his mouth and went down on Mulder's cock. Not having given head before, he clumsily sucked it but Fox didn't seem to mind his inexperience.

Fox reach down and ran his hand over Walter's smooth head. The older man shivered at his touch, an erotic touch on his bald head had always turned him on. He increased his sucking taking a little more of the shaft with each stroke.

His hands wandered over Fox's balls, massaging the sac and the area at the base of his penis. He pulled back, gently scraping his teeth against the engorged flesh. Fox moaned loudly and thrust his hips forward pushing his cock deeper into Walter's mouth and into his throat. He relaxed the back of his throat and found that the reflex to pull away disappeared.

His fingers found Fox's perineum, the little area of tissue between the anus and the base of the genitals. He stroked it with the tips of his fingernail, eliciting another moan from his lover. Walter reached lower wanting to penetrate the tight, puckered nether mouth that beckoned him almost as seductively as Fox's coy look had earlier but Fox stopped him.

"I've never..." he started.

Walter withdrew his mouth from the gorgeous organ. "I'm not going to hurt you Fox. I won't do anything that you don't want me to." No matter how much his lust raged, he wouldn't rape anyone in any way. In his mind, any unauthorized or non-consensual penetration was rape. He went back to sucking Fox's cock.

"I want you to," Fox restated turning suddenly shy. "It's just that I'm a virgin. Sort of." Walter stopped again.

"What do you mean, sort of?" Walter asked. How could someone be a "sort of" virgin? Fox just pointed to the bag he had packed. It lay at the end of the couch. Walter retrieved it and handed it to him.

Fox opened the bag and withdrew a small, finger-sized, pink butt plug. Walter smiled up at him in understanding. The plug was actually smaller in diameter than Walter's index finger. It was amazing the things that would turn Mulder shy.

"Well, my 'sort of' virgin, do you have any lube in that bag of tricks?" Walter asked playfully. Fox rummaged a few seconds and produced a bottle of something called Astroglide.

"Walter?" Fox asked plaintively. The older man looked at him. Fox indicated his cock with a nod of his head. He was in very dire need of release.

"You know, you're supposed to be resting," Walter teased. Fox just whimpered pitifully and untangled one foot from the sweatpants at his ankles. He spread his legs as wide as they would go with one foot resting on the edge of the couch. The position gave Walter more access to his anus.

Taking pity on his needy lover, Walter resumed his assistance to relieve Fox's need.

He flipped open the top of the lubrication and squirted a generous amount onto his right hand. He also placed some of the slippery liquid against the opening to Mulder's ass. With a tempered push, he inserted his index finger into the sphincter. At the same time, he sucked up Fox's cock again. 

The combined movement of penetration and enveloping caused the proverbial fireworks to explode in Fox's brain. He felt Walter's finger slide in deeper and withdraw again. The pumping motion felt so unusual and so good at the same time. His bowels flipped and his legs twitched.

Walter pushed his finger in again a little harder and pulled it almost all the way out before again plunging it in. Fox gasped and moaned with every stroke on his cock and in his ass. Walter glanced up at Fox's face and saw that it was strained with pleasure and covered with sweat. His eyes were closed; mouth open in ecstasy.

He increased the intensity of the thrusts with his finger but slowed down the sucking to an excruciatingly slow pace. He wanted to draw out an earth-shattering orgasm from Fox and took a chance that this combination of motion would do it.

With the stroked of the finger in his ass coming faster and harder, Fox felt the boiling of semen build up in his balls. The lips and tongue on his cock had slowed down to a snail's pace making the burning in his testicles all the more prevalent.

One particularly violent thrust pushed the momentum of the semen forward. Fox arched his back yelled as the climax racked his body. His anal muscles clamped down on Walter's fingers, pausing the thrusting. Gushes of hot white cum flowed into Walter's mouth, too much to take in all at once. Some of it escaped his mouth and dribbled back down Mulder's cock and onto his belly.

Fox's body spasmed hard, three or four times before relaxing again and slumping back onto the couch. Leaving his finger still implanted deep in Mulder's ass, Walter kissed the inside of his thighs and licked up the spilled semen from his stomach. He then bent to clean off the spots of milky white fluid that had landed on Mulder's testicles. 

Walter took the sac into his mouth and tugged gently at it. Mulder moaned loudly and shuddered again. So many nerves were at attention in and around his anus that he could feel his heart beat around Walter's finger. Steadily and slowly, the finger and mouth were withdrawn leaving him empty and sated.

"You OK?" Walter asked. He needed to know if he had gone too far or not. All of this was so new to him.

Fox nodded. He was fine, more than fine. Even though he had come really hard, he wanted more.

"Let's go upstairs Walter," he said. At the suggestion, Walter's eyes went really wide and he jumped up.

"Oh shit!" he yelled. "I left the water running in the tub!" He raced upstairs to shut off the tap. Fox laughed with delight. He had seduced the older man so much that Walter had forgotten what he was doing. The inscrutable Walter Skinner had lost all control over his behavior. 

So, Walter had been running a bath for him. Fox wondered what else the man had on his mind. He lazily climbed the stairs to see what kind of mess needed cleaning and found Walter mopping up the spilled water.

"Luckily, not too much overflowed," he said. "But I'm afraid it turned cold and flushed out most of the hot water."

Mulder walked up behind him and put his hands on Walter's broad shoulders. "Forget about it for now," he said. "We'll have time for a bath later. Come with me." Walter opened the drain on the tub letting the water swirl down and then allowed Fox to lead him out of the bathroom.

He led him to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Gingerly, he took off the tee-shirt leaving him totally nude. "Help me take this tape off my ribs. Its starting to annoy my skin."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Walter asked. He kept his eyes on Fox's face afraid that if he looked at the rest of his body, the animal lust would return and he would be powerless to stop it.

Fox looked at him with a smirk on his face. "In the three or so years I've worked for you have you ever known me to do anything that was considered wise by your standards?"

The older man bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling broadly. "You have a point," he said. Lifting the outer edge of the tape, he peeled it away layer by layer. Its removal left behind a sticky residue and revealed a few yet unseen dark bruises. The unbruised flesh was speckled with red dots of irritation; an allergy to the tape. Walter produced a bottle of aloe lotion from the bathroom and began to apply it to the chafed skin.

Fox purred with relief. The itch had become rather unbearable. He wiggled under Walter's hands like a cat in heat, wanting the fingers and palms to touch him everywhere. His own hands found the edges of Walter's shirt and made their way up under it. He moved his hands, open palmed, against the defined expanse of Walter's chest and around to the back.

Clumsily, with Walter's help, he removed the shirt. His left hand reached behind Walter's neck and drew him in for a kiss. Pressing his chest close to meet the other man's, his free hand wandered down to help remove the pants and free the penis that had been hard for quite a while now.

Walter wasn't protesting, but he wasn't helping either. He told himself that he should not allow Fox to continue; it was too soon. He didn't say anything though. Again, body took control over mind. He reasoned that if Fox was in too much pain, he would stop. Right? He hoped so.

Guiding him with his left hand still at the base of his neck, Fox laid Walter back onto the bed. Being the passive recipient was a foreign concept to Walter but at the same time, it was something he had been craving for some time. He patiently watched as Fox got up and removed his pants.

Climbing back onto the bed, Fox lay almost on top of his body pressing his flesh as close as he could. He moved his hands all over Walter's body starting at the top of his head. All the while, Walter watched him, his large brown eyes full of passion. Little noises were made in his throat. The eyes would close occasionally when one of the hands rubbed a sensitive area.

Walter's small moans grew louder when Fox brushed his nipples, the insides of his thighs and the neck just below the ears. He felt himself sinking into a trance-like state of sensation. It was almost as if his dream world and the real one had meshed, which in a way, they had. 

An erotic pain flooded his senses as Fox twisted one of his nipples. The pain brought him closer to the surface but it wasn't enough to break him out of the reverie that held him captive. He felt his cock being encircled by his lover's hand and the familiar tugging begin. God, he wanted to bury it deep in the moist warm opening of Fox's ass or mouth and lose himself in the experience.

This passion, this raw sexual need and fulfillment was the only thing that seemed real anymore. Everything else faded away. Only Fox, his body, his cock, mouth and ass were here now.

Fox moved around on the bed so that he was laying opposite of Walter; the sixty-nine position would be the easiest on his body. Seeing what he had in mind, Walter rolled onto his side and bent his top leg for support. He closed his eyes again and let his hands wander across Fox's lower body. He wished that the younger man would get hard again but until he did, Walter buried his face into the muscled thighs and breathed deeply. Fox's musk just sent him deeper into the lust trance. 

Fox's thick lips pulled at Walter's glans lazily; his tongue lapping up the moisture that was forming in the crevasse. He pushed down the length of the shaft allowing the broad flatness of his tongue to feel every vein and coat it in saliva. Pulling back up, he licked the organ with large strokes like a child lapping at an ice-cream cone.

With his hand, he pushed any excess folds of flesh (of which, there weren't many) so that the taut epidermis would be even more sensitive. He followed this with another downward stroke of his mouth and then reversed both actions in tandem. He pressed his thumb against the base of the glans on his way up to control the already surging flow of semen.

Walter made a low noise at the pressure stopping his orgasm. His logical brain said that it would be better if he let it build a little more; his animal brain didn't care. 

Had he been anywhere near coherency at the moment, he would have opened his eyes and seen the look of pure orneriness that resided in Fox's eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing. Fox wanted Walter to be writhing and completely out of control.

He sucked down again onto the older man's cock, milking it with his mouth over and over, and stopping again just before climax. Each time he did this, Walter's growls became a little more pronounced between his kisses to Fox's body, his breath more ragged. He was slick with sweat and every muscle was primed for release.

In Fox's free hand, he opened the tube of lubrication and squeezed some of it on the opening of Walter's anus. The man gasped with the sudden shock of the cool gel hitting the steaming flesh. It startled him for only a second before the persistent, torturous suckling began again at his penis.

Using a slow, small rubbing motion, Fox inserted one finger into Walter's ass and was amazed at the extreme tightness he encountered. God, what it would be like to have his cock surrounded by that tightness! He hadn't asked permission before trying this out but Walter didn't seem to mind, in fact, he was actively pushing down to take more of the finger. He fervently wished that Walter would allow him to penetrate him fully someday.

When Fox's finger entered him, Walter literally saw stars behind his closed lids. The sensation of being filled was overwhelming. He moved to take more in and willed the penetrating digit to start moving in and out. Either Fox understood what he wanted or he had heard the silent plea, for he started to pump his finger in and out of the sphincter.

Walter latched his mouth onto the tender inside of Fox's thigh as the younger man went down for another assault on his enraged cock. If he was going to be teased mercilessly, he would at least leave his mark for it.

Fox groaned lustily as Walter attacked his thigh. From the intensity of the attack, Fox figured he had better help Walter come soon or the hickey that he was giving him would never disappear. He slid his lips down the shaft again. He also began the insertion of a second finger which Walter again bore down on, wanting them both deep inside.

He relaxed his throat in the back, like one does when they are yawning, and took the length of the cock fully into his mouth. As he pumped his mouth to the hilt, he firmly massaged the balls and pummeled Walter's ass with his fingers.

Fox was glad that when Walter came, he didn't have much semen left in him or he would have choked. The hot fluid shot straight down his throat.

The previously seen little stars turned into explosions of light and a great pounding started at Walter's solar plexus and radiated outward through his brain and cock. A shout tore itself from his lips as he came, shooting sperm into Fox's mouth. Although the amount of semen had diminished greatly, the orgasm was many times more intense than the ones that had occurred earlier in the day.

Walter's heart stopped for two, then three beats, and started again with a ferocious thump. His whole body twitched as if every nerve ending was dancing with joy. Fox's fingers were still inside his ass and still thrusting. When they passed his prostate, he finally understood the appeal to anal sex. It was as if Fox was tickling the inside base of his cock at it's most sensitive area. His body shuddered again and his exhausted cock jumped a little. He sucked in a ragged breath and sighed.

"Do you want me to stop?" Fox asked quietly.

"Not quite yet," Walter said. The thrusting continued but slowed with every stroke until it became a gentle stroking. When his heart slowed it's pace back to normal, he allowed Fox to withdraw his fingers. The emptiness left behind was made bearable only by the promise of more to come later.

He lay back on the bed with his eyes closed again. His hand still touching Fox, played over the younger man's body.

"Did you say something about a bath earlier?" Fox asked. He was sticky with sweat, semen and saliva and wanted to get cleaned off. Walter opened his eyes and looked at him sleepily.

"You actually think that I can get up and move after an orgasm like that?" he asked incredulously. "It may be months before I fully recover." Fox leered evilly at him and moved across the bed so that they were face to face.

"Months?" he asked. "I bet that I could get you moving again in a few minutes if I tried really, really hard." With that statement, he began kissing Walter at the base of his throat, breathing heavily as he did. Walter's penis twitched in response violently enough that Fox noticed it and said, "see what I mean?"

Walter groaned and cursed his willful organ. The thing had a mind of its own and was obviously in cahoots with Fox to bring him to an early grave. Talk about conspiracies!

"You're trying to kill me. Aren't you?"

Fox batted his eyelashes and patted Walter's hand. "Of course. But you'll die happy." He jumped up off the bed spryly making Walter wonder exactly how injured he had been since he didn't seem to be hurting at all or if the effort was purely based off of an adrenaline rush.

"Let's take a bath soon before my adrenaline wears off and I start hurting like hell again," Fox said. A shiver went down Walter's spine at the words. Was Mulder a mind reader? Maybe that's where the nickname of Spooky really came from.

They took a languid, warm bath together, Fox tenderly wrapped in Walter's arms. All throughout, Fox wondered when the dream would end and he would awaken in his apartment alone and hurting. His back and shoulders were being gently massaged and his whole body lovingly washed. If it was a dream, he didn't want to wake, it all felt so good.

***

Early Monday Morning  
Crystal City Apartments

His eyes opened automatically like they always did, two minutes before the alarm was set to go off at 5:30am. He shut off the alarm before it had the chance to ring. In the past ten years the clock had only had the chance to ring maybe three or four times. He had developed the habit many years ago so as to not wake Sharon with his early hours. The stray thought of his ex-wife made him realize that he hadn't had the nightmare last night and the reason was curled up beside him snoring softly. Fox's face was free of worry as he slept, giving him the appearance of a young boy. Walter brushed an errant strand of hair out of his lover's face and kissed him gently, careful not to wake him up yet.

He crawled out of bed, exhausted but happy, and climbed into the shower. Midway through his soaping up, he found himself humming a bit of Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 5: the Emperor Concerto. He grinned and shook his head. 'You're positively giddy this morning!' he thought. 'It must be lust.'

Part of his mind stated that it might be deeper than lust, but he pushed this away. Lust he could deal with. Lust was easily taken or pushed away. He couldn't deal with falling in love right now, not when he wanted it so badly.

He got out of the shower and wiped the steam off the mirror to shave. His reflection wouldn't allow him to lie to himself. He was in love with Fox. Now all he could do was try not to show it too much.

Mulder was still asleep when he finished preparing for work.

***

Tuesday Morning  
J. Edgar Hoover Building

Dana was relaxed and calm after her vacation but she wished that it had lasted another month or two. It had been nice to come back to a quiet Monday with Mulder being out. He was supposed to be back today. The idea of dealing with her partner and their Tuesday meeting with AD Skinner didn't appeal to her. She wasn't ready to jump back into the fray of departmental policies and government cover-ups. 

Much to her surprise, Mulder was in the office before her. He was humming quietly to himself and if it hadn't been for the tape across his nose and the dark bruises on his face, she would have thought that something wonderful had happened to him while she had been gone.

He smiled at her and said hello not bothering to explain why it was that he had bruises. She knew he was strange but there were times when she seriously wondered about his sanity.

"Are you always this cheerful after getting beat up?" she asked. Curiosity burned in her mind, she had to know what had happened to him.

"Cheerful?" he asked back. "Am I acting cheerful?" He'd have to watch himself more closely. Scully couldn't be allowed to guess anything unusual had happened in his personal life. If she so much as caught a fraction of a clue, she would pursue the issue until she found out everything. In some ways, she was more persistent than he was in pursuit of answers.

"Humming, smiling and showing up for work early are usually signs of a happy person."

"In that case," he said, "I guess I'm cheerful. They found the jerks who did this to me." He indicated the bruises. Hopefully she would believe that story. "The hearing is set for two weeks from today. Hopefully they'll get what's coming to them."

He still hadn't explained what had happened. "Are you going to keep me in suspense all day or are you going to tell me what happened?" She hated having to ask for every little tidbit of information.

"I got beat up." God, he was frustrating.

"Duh. And..." she said. He fidgeted around in his seat for a while and feigned interest in an old report. He was hiding something. "C'mon Mulder, tell me."

"Its really embarrassing Scully. I'd rather not talk about it. Anyway, I'm surprised you didn't see the entire incident on the news, they played it everywhere."

What the hell was he talking about? She thought back to the last few days, trying to remember what she had or hadn't seen. She tried to avoid the new altogether. It was normally filled with stock prices, sports and hate crimes. 

Hate crimes. There had been something mentioning an attack by a bunch of Neo-nazis on a gay nightclub. Over forty people had been seriously injured and two were killed. Could that be what Mulder was referring to? If so, she didn't know why he was being so cryptic about it. The reports had mentioned that many innocent bystanders had been dragged into the fray, mistaken for club patrons.

"You're talking about the nightclub incident, right?" she asked. He nodded glumly. Suddenly, she understood. He was afraid that since he had been caught in that part of town, he would be mistaken for being gay. No wonder he was embarrassed. 'Men and their egos,' she thought.

"Mulder, I wouldn't worry if I were you," she said. "No one would believe for a second that you were... uh, you know. Jeez, you've dated half the women in the Bureau at one time or another and now everyone is convinced that you and I are a couple." 

He brightened considerably at her words. If Scully didn't believe that he could possibly be gay, then she'd never in a million years believe that Skinner and he had been together. Now all he had to do was get through their first meeting with the AD and he would be safe.

He hadn't seen or talked to Skinner since Monday evening. They had agreed that weekends were relatively safe, but the rest of the week was dangerous. They had also agreed to act as if nothing had occurred while at work. It would be difficult for Mulder, he had seen his boss in a whole new light. Walter Skinner was no longer inscrutable, no longer shielded from the eyes. He could not hide behind the gold-framed glasses anymore, Mulder knew him now.

***

Skinner's secretary Kim opened the office door for the two agents. Out of all the agents under Skinner's authority, she knew that these two were his favorites, although he didn't show it to them. She figured that she knew her boss pretty well after working with him for almost ten years. He was always toughest on his favorites and if that were the scale on which to judge, he held Agent Mulder in very high regard.

She felt sorry for the handsome man on a regular basis; Skinner was very harsh with him. The young man usually had a look of apprehension on his face before entering the office. Today was no different. He looked downright terrified to walk in through the wooden door and into the AD's lair. 

Kim showed the two agents in and shut the door behind them, hoping that there would be no loud arguments today.

***

Skinner took his time reading over the requests laid out before him. The extra time had nothing to do with the content of the requests, but his fear to look up and into Mulder's eyes. This acting as if nothing had occurred between them was easier said than done. Mulder's scent alone was driving him crazy. He was sure that the brat had worn it on purpose. He forced himself to think of the most unpleasant thing possible to keep from getting hard. 

Scully took his uncomfortable expression to be about the travel request. She worried because it was one she had written herself. If he was balking at it, he would really through a fit over the one underneath it.

Mulder was having the same problem as Skinner. He stared at the floor in an effort not to lose his cool. He had to get control of himself soon or Scully would begin to notice. He took a deep breath, straightened up and sneaked a glance upward only to catch Skinner doing the same thing.

Their eyes locked. For what seemed like an eternity, they stared at each other, large brown eyes to hazel ones. Mulder's heart stopped and started again with a thump. God, Walter was a good-looking man! Skinner was the first to break contact, the paper in his hand being a good excuse.

"Is there anything you wanted to add to this Agent Scully?" Skinner's voice cracked a little. He cleared his throat and silently swore at himself to get under control. As long as he didn't accidentally look at Mulder again, he should be all right. 

"No sir, I believe it is complete," Scully said. She watched as he signed his name to the bottom of both requests without really reading the second one. Something was bothering him but that was to be expected. He had been through a very difficult time recently with his divorce and all the other bizarreness surrounding him. She wouldn't be at all surprised if he was suffering from stress. But even with all the weird events, he was acting very odd.

"Well then," Skinner said, "that should do it. You two had better hurry if you want to catch the next flight to Dallas." He hurried them to the door, anxious to get Mulder's scent out of his office before he leapt onto the younger man. With Mulder in the field, he should be able to get through the rest of the week. He was finding it difficult to breathe now; he wanted Fox so bad. God, he hoped the weekend would get here soon!

Scully was even more concerned about her boss when he virtually pushed them out the door. She'd only been gone a week but during that time Mulder had gotten beat up by Neo-Nazi's and her boss had been replaced by a pod person. Strange occurrences were ordinary for her by now but this was pushing it.

"Is it my imagination or is Skinner acting very strangely?" she asked Mulder on their way back to the basement. 

"Only in the fact that he signed those requests without even looking at them." So Mulder had noticed Skinner's behavior. At least she wasn't imagining things.

"That's what I mean Mulder. It isn't like him to not go over everything at least twice before signing." Skinner usually re-read Mulder's requests five or six times before signing them and he always made some snide remark about grammatical errors.

"Maybe he just got lucky this weekend," Mulder said. He couldn't believe that the comment had popped out of his mouth. 'Perfect!' he thought, 'just give her fuel for the fire shit-head.' Anymore comments like that and Scully would put the pieces together in a heartbeat.

Scully's jaw dropped. She didn't know what shocked her more: Mulder's crude remark or the thought of Skinner getting laid. She knew the man had been married but he just didn't seem to be the kind to enjoy anything, even sex.

"Either that," Mulder said quickly, trying to recover his slip of the tongue, "or he's been replaced by a pod person." Scully gaped at him again. "What now?" he asked, regarding her look of shock. 

"I hate it when you do that." No wonder people called him Spooky. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn he had read her mind. She walked quickly, passing him by.

"Do what?" he asked chasing after her. What had he done now? Scully just shook her head and walked on in silence, refusing to clue him in. It was going to be long couple of days.

***

Friday Evening  
Crystal City Apartments

Skinner paced before the patio door nursing a warming beer. Where the hell was Fox? Their plane had arrived almost five hours ago and still he had not called or shown up. Had he changed his mind? Walter hoped not. He resisted the urge to try his cell phone again, last time it had been Scully who answered it.

He looked at the clock for the millionth time. It was three minutes later than the last time he checked. He'd tried watching television to get his mind of the dark-haired man who held his obsession but the only programs playing were bad sitcoms and a UFO movie; the last thing he needed. It would only remind him of Fox.

The phone rang and he shot across the room to grab it.

"What are you wearing?" It was Fox. About damn time!

"Too many fucking clothes," Walter snarled. "Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be here hours ago." 

"Patience, Walter. I had to get rid of Scully first, she wanted to review the case before letting me go. You know how dedicated she is to giving you perfect reports." He was on his cell phone. Walter hoped that it meant he was nearby. His patience was wearing thin.

"At least her reports are better than yours." Damn! These barbed retorts had to stop shooting out of his mouth. He didn't want Mulder to go away because of his caustic rants.

"Maybe you can show me some pointers on pleasing my boss. Hmmm?" Fox said coyly. Skinner was going to have to learn that whatever he dished out, Mulder could meet with an equally smart-ass counterpoint. 

"Depends on when you get here," Walter said. A knock on the door jerked his attention away for a second and he didn't understand what Fox was saying. He moved towards the door preparing to open it. "What? I didn't catch that last part."

"I said..." Fox started.

Walter opened the door.

"...is now soon enough for you?"

Mulder was leaning against the doorjamb with his cell phone against his ear and a shit-eating grin across his face. Walter's heart dropped into his stomach again. Fox was one of the sexist men he had ever laid eyes on. His cock came to attention with a rush of blood.

He pulled the younger man into the apartment and slammed the door behind him. Grabbing the cell phone, he tossed it on the couch and yanked Mulder towards him. Their lips met passionately, kissing each other with a ferocity that was staggering.

Fox pushed back causing the older man to backpedal and eventually run into an end table. Neither man really seemed to care about the furniture as they tore at each other's clothing, trying to rid themselves of the restrictive bonds.

After a comical minute or two of uncoordinated disrobing, they fell upon one another, each trying to completely cover the other with kisses and bites. Fox's bruises were a pale shade of yellow and all but a memory so he had no qualms about throwing himself fully at Walter.

He hooked one leg behind Walter's knee and pressed his body close. Their cocks rubbed together and both men gasped at the quivering excitement that passed though them.

Walter went to his knees, grasping Fox's buttocks in his hands and pulling his pelvis close. He planted wet, sloppy kisses to the pillow of curls surrounding the erect organ. His hand kneaded the firm flesh of the ass, massaging it in circles as he nuzzled around Fox's cock.

He was determined to not actually take the cock into his mouth until Fox was whimpering with need. It would be a fair turnabout for making him wait almost five hours. He breathed deep the fragrance that excited him so. The scent went right to his head and he felt transported to the special place where only he and Fox resided.

His tongue darted out and licked at the soft tissue encompassing the testicles. Taking one and then both into his mouth, he tugged at them, sucking and rolling them around. A shiver went through Fox's body and he reached down to hold onto Walter's head and steady himself.

The older man's hand began to wander over Fox's ass and down towards the crack. It was there that he encountered the edge of something foreign. He pulled back in order to investigate.

"It's a plug," Fox said breathlessly. "I wanted to stretch myself some so that you could fuck me." He had started playing with the plug on Tuesday in hopes that it would be enough. The thought of Walter inside of him had become an obsession. If only Scully had known what he had been doing in his hotel room.

Walter smiled broadly. "Why don't we head upstairs," he suggested. The bedroom was much better equipped for what they both had in mind, plus it had the bed. Other areas of the apartment might add more spice but the bed was much easier on the body.

"So conventional," Fox said. He didn't argue but helped Walter to his feet. "Take me to bed Walter."

Skinner grabbed his hand and pulled him upstairs. Once inside the room, they fell together onto the bed recklessly grasping and kissing each other. In an effort to try and touch each other everywhere, they began to roll back and forth, each vying for momentary control.

Being the heavier of the two and the one with the greater upper body strength, it was Walter who finally commanded the top position and pinioned Fox beneath him. His knees trapped the younger man's arms as he straddled his body. It was a position that Fox could escape from if he were so inclined but his lack of struggle revealed his interests. 

>From his upper vantage Walter was able to take control of the pace. Breathing hard, he stared down at the man beneath him and wondered for the millionth time in the past week how it was that fate brought them together. Laying supine under him was the lover of his dreams, anxiously awaiting his next move and staring into his eyes.

He leaned down and kissed Fox's eyelids. His tongue followed down the bridge of his nose and traced the edges of the lips. The lips moved up to try and meet his but he pulled away teasingly. The sense of urgency lined every angle of Fox's body; his eyes carrying an almost pained expression of need. 

"Soon," Walter promised. He wasn't about to rush anything this time; he wanted everything to go correctly so that they would both remember this night for a very long time.

He placed languid kisses all over Fox's face and neck in a random pattern; tasting his skin and sucking on his earlobes. The rough skin of Fox's jaw line where the day's growth of beard surfaced, scratched his lips as he trailed them across to place a kiss under his chin, at the base of the throat.

His hands moved down Fox's shoulders, kneading the flesh. He moved his knees to free his lover's arms, arms that came up to touch him in response. Bending down again to kiss the space where the base of the ear met the neck, his breath tickled the fine hairs and stirred a great tide of craving Fox.

Fox tried to rise up off the bed, to meet Walter's body, but the older man's weight kept him down. All he could do was lay there and receive the measured attention. Kisses covered his face and neck. Hot breath filled his ears. Fingers and palms touched him on his chest, his nipples and arms.

His cock, already hardened by the promise of fulfillment, twitched with every heartbeat and he was acutely aware of the latex plug that was firmly inserted into his anus. Pressing against his belly, Walter's penis was rapidly reaching it's full length. He freed one of his arms and brought the hand down Walter's body, purposefully brushing the small hard pebble-like nipple in its path, grabbed the bottle of Astroglide off of the nightstand and eventually encircled the erect organ.

Walter made an animal like sound when Fox's hand took hold of his cock, a deep throated growl. The insistent hand moved up and down his shaft, spreading the cool lubrication over it. Normally the introduction of cold made him start to go soft but not this time, it only fueled his fire. 

He rolled back up onto his knees and moved off of the younger man. Snatching a pillow from the top of the bed, he hastily stuffed it under Fox's hips to bring them up to an accessible height. His desire was to plunge full force into the man beneath him but he knew that no matter how much they both might wish that to happen, that it would hurt Fox too much. He forced himself to slow down and think things through.

He parted Fox's legs and was silently amazed at the level of trust showing in his lover's eyes. No fear reflected in those pools of blue-green. His hands traveled alongside the inner things to bend the legs at the knee. Fox closed his eyes and let Walter take all control.

At a leisurely pace, Walter withdrew the latex plug. Its movement caused Fox's breath to hasten and it felt as if the attention of the entire world was centered around the nerves in his anus. The particular plug he had been playing with flared at mid-point to a circumference the size of Walter's cock. Mulder knew that if he could get used to it then having Walter inside of him would be no problem. No one ever mentioned that you can practice lowering yourself onto hood ornaments all day long but having one come at you at 35 mph was a whole different ballgame. (**) He was about to find out how mistaken he had been.

Once the plug was removed, Walter inserted his fingers to keep the sphincter muscles from tightening too quickly. He squeezed more lubrication into the tight hole and worked it in. adding even more of the Astroglide to his own cock, he eased himself into place at the puckered entrance that was still closed around two of his fingers. He removed his fingers and pushed the glans at the opening.

Fox's eyes flew open and he hissed in surprise and pain. Luckily, Walter understood immediately that this sound was not a happy one. He paused.

"Slowly," Fox said. "Slower than slow. OK?" Walter nodded in understanding. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt the younger man.

The pressure at his anus began again, but this time it moved slower. Fox forced himself to breath in even intakes and he found himself practicing long forgotten relaxation techniques in order to keep from pulling away. He wanted this impalement, this penetration into his depths. Part of him needed the pain mixed with the pleasure just to verify that he was really alive.

Sweat covered Fox's body as Walter gradually worked the head of his cock past the gateway. Once the glans was fully inside, the intensity subsided a little. Both men paused, catching their breath before continuing.

Walter added more lubrication. He had read somewhere that one could never have too much lube for anal sex. He took this advice to heart. Starting a progressive rocking, he little by little pushed deeper into the tight hole. The feeling was like nothing he had ever experienced before, the little nether mouth was so tight, so warm and so enveloping. It sucked back at every thrust.

He found that he had to force himself to slow down again lest he forget to add more lubrication. Fox's labored breathing under him was a constant reminder that although he felt nothing but pleasure, the younger man was struggling between pleasure and pain. He had become concerned more than once and asked if they needed to stop, but each time, Fox insisted that they continue. Walter only hoped that he wasn't causing too much pain.

More careful movements and a lot more lubrication later, he was finally fully inside Fox. The strained expression on the younger man's face had dissipated and been replace by one of intense need. He bucked his hips forward to push Walter into motion and moaned loudly at every thrust.

Fox was unaware of how loud his moans had become and to be perfectly honest, he really didn't care. Once the initial discomfort had subsided, the experience of Walters cock buried into him was one of pure ecstasy. The older man filled him in ways that the latex plug could never do. For one, the plug was only about four inches in length compared to Walter's almost nine inches. The plug had never touched his prostate the way that Walter's cock did. It rubbed against the reactive gland at each thrust causing a rippling wave to begin in his gut that sent signals of pure bliss to his brain.

He lifted his legs off of the bed and brought his knees back to his chest, wanting to take in as much of Walter as he could. The older man took this as a signal to thrust harder which was perfectly agreeable to them both.

Fox's body rocked as Walter plunged into him. For a moment, his whole existence tunneled into this moment, this place, with Walter inside of him and their bodies moving together in an intricate dance of love. He dared to open his eyes. A small part of him had feared that he was only dreaming this wonderful moment, but his eyes told him otherwise.

Walter moved above him, looking down into his face. Their eyes met and the rest of the room faded away. Why had he never noticed how large and soothing those deep brown eyes of Walter's were? The man above him was so different than the man that sat across from him in conference rooms and offices. The man above him looked down in love, lust and joy; the face so filled with emotion that it was almost frightening. 

He wondered what Walter saw in his face; what emotion were laid bare in his own eyes as they fucked each other. It was becoming more difficult to think now as the sensations all began to boil up together. He hooked his legs over Walter's shoulders to free up his hands.

Fox reached for the bottle of lubrication but Walter intercepted it and poured some of the liquid onto his own hand and clasped onto Fox's cock.

It was as if a bolt of lightening seared through his penis, Walter's grasp was pure electricity. He cried out as the swift pumping pushed him that much closer to the edge of insanity. With nothing for his hands to do, he clung to the sheets and bedding as if through sheer will power alone, he could stop the rising tide of orgasm that was threatening to take over his body.

Walter too was trying his best not to allow himself to climax quite yet, but it was a losing battle. The grasping anal mouth pulled at his cock, milking it and sucking at it until he could no longer hold back. He drained into Fox's ass with short, grunting jabs. Sweat poured off of his body and he fought to regain his breath while he still pumped Fox's cock.

Whether or not Fox was aware that he had come, Walter couldn't be sure because the younger man was writhing back and forth mumbling incoherently and still bucking wildly. Drops of sweat rolled off of his face and dripped onto Fox's chest. He appeared completely unaware of anything except the pumping of his cock and ass.

Walter's assessment of Fox's condition was totally correct. He was aware only of the sensations that were all moving together. A bright light flashed behind his eyelids and he felt himself sinking and rising at the same time as the orgasm raged across him. 

He wasn't aware how far, if at all, he had risen off of the bed, but he was suddenly aware of the mattress under him as if he had fallen a great distance and landed on it. One by one, other feelings and sights came into focus. The first was Walter's face looking down on him with a mixed expression of amusement and concern. The second was his heartbeat thumping in his chest and echoing only slightly less intense in his ass. Next, the awareness that the bed, his body and Walter's were all soaked with sweat.

"I can't believe that I lived though that orgasm," he croaked. It always amazed him that the human body could explode with such intensity and still function. There were tears in his eyes from the stress of it all but he was deliriously happy.

"Are you all right?" Walter was concerned. He couldn't tell if Fox was in pain still or not. Fox smiled at his concern. He raised a hand and placed it on Walter's face.

"There are no words to describe how incredible that was," he said. He would probably be sore for a few days, but the small pain was worth it all. "I guess that I have been properly deflowered now," he joked.

Walter smiled back at him. If he could joke, than Fox was OK. He moved back slowly and his softened penis fell out. Fox moaned at the withdrawal, not wanting everything to end so soon. Walter kissed him gently and scooted off the bed and into the bathroom.

"You aren't going to take a shower without me again are you?" Fox called from the bedroom.

"No," Walter said. "I'm just going to get something to clean us both up." He ran warm water over a couple of wash cloths and took them back into the room, not caring if they dripped water onto the carpet. He then proceeded to give Fox a very thorough sponge bath which left the younger man content and almost purring again. Fox reciprocated the task by cleaning off Walter. The simple act of mutual care-taking was not lost on Walter. In his years with Sharon, the aftermath of sex was always an unpleasant time of separate showers and rolling over to go to sleep, both of them not totally fulfilled and slightly resentful about the fact. But with Fox, it was so different.

He just wanted to wrap the younger man up in his arms and never let him go but he was hesitant. They had only been together a very short time; it was much to soon to let himself fall in love.

"I don't know about you," Fox said, interrupting his reverie, "but I am hungrier than a starved dog. The last food I had was on the plane and it was pretty nasty." Leave it to Fox to think about food at a time like this.

Walter laughed and folded Fox up in his arms anyway. If this living dream only lasted a short time - so be it. He would enjoy it while he could.

***THE END***

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